Bliss
by UODaisy
Summary: Sequal to THE RETURN Alex returns to her new life in Oregon, and Olivia is getting tired of waiting.
1. Six Months

**BLISS**

**Chapter One: Six Months**

_Alex_

When I wake up to the sound of rain I smile. Only in Oregon can I wake up in August to rain. Or at least to rain that doesn't sizzle when it hits the ground. After my trip to the coast this weekend, it feels so perfect. Everything about this state is beautiful. In two years I hadn't made the effort to see what was around me because all I wanted to do was go back to New York. I've seen more in six months than I did in two years, and even though I'll never admit it to you, I am getting attached.

New York is beautiful in it's own way. And I love walking through the city with you, taking it all in. But there's something intensely natural here that sweeps me away. At first, I thought I'd never get used to sleeping in the silence. And then when I got back I thought I'd never get used to sleeping without you, and it's hard… but sometimes I open a window and just let the sound of the woods lull me asleep. I've gotten attached to those sounds. I've gotten attached to my little house. I've gotten attached to everything but my job, and the only thing that would make this better is if you were here.

But I don't tell you these things. I can hear in your voice how much you miss me. And the truth is that I miss you too. And I'm still coming back, it's just… I guess I want to soak this all in first. Maybe I'd feel more of a push to go back if I could find a job in the city. Branch's contacts seem to be falling through in an extremely disappointing fashion, and I won't move back until I can stand on my own. On the other hand, my job here has led to some interesting prospects. After I got back and the papers got wind of my situation I ended up with an interview not only in the New York Times, but also in the Oregonian. I was encouraged to take the Oregon Bar, which I passed, no surprise to you. And suddenly I have my choice of positions. I haven't told you about all of them yet, especially not about the one I'm considering taking. Temporary position as an ADA for Multnomah County. Their ADA left suddenly after some sort of scandal, and until they find a permanent replacement they've offered me a spot.

In all honesty, I could probably have the job permanently, but I do want to go back to New York, go back to you. I miss you. I miss the weight of you in the bed next to me, the sound of your breathing lulling me to sleep. I miss that scent of cinnamon and vanilla that infects me whenever you're nearby. The phone rings while I'm thinking of you and I don't have to read the caller-ID to know it's you.

"Hi."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Answer the phone like you know it's me."

"Caller ID"

"You never look at the caller ID."

"How do you know?"

"Same way you know it's me before you answer the phone."

"So, what's new at home?"

"Aha, calling it home again are we?" You sound smug, hopeful. I cringe.

"Liv. I told you."

"I know, I know… six more months right?"

I know this is the moment. I should tell you now. But I just can't do it.

"I miss you." I'm hoping you won't hear that for what it is.

"That's a cop out Alex." Shit.

"I **do** miss you."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"How do you know I'm not telling you something?"

"Because you said it in the same tone of voice you use when you're trying to talk your way out of a perfectly legit defensive motion in Petrovsky's chambers. It's that tone that says you know the defense has a case and you don't want to admit it. So fess up."

I take a deep breath, cursing how well you know me. "I got a job offer."

"That's GREAT! When are you coming back?"

"It's with the Multnomah County DA's office."

"Where the fuck is Multnomah County? Is that in Jersey?"

"It's here."

"oh." Your voice is small, quiet… hurt.

"It's not permanent Livvy. Just until they find someone to take over. The last ADA left in something of a scandal and they're desperate for someone to take on the caseload. When I passed the bar here, which you encouraged me to do by the way, the DA's office came knocking on my door. What was I supposed to do?"

"Say no. Say that you're not going to be there much longer. Say that you have to go back to New York."

"Look at it this way Olivia, when I do get back to New York I can jump right back in somewhere, I won't be rusty."

"So this is a warm-up? That's bull Alex, and you know it."

"I miss the courtroom Liv. I miss prosecuting. I miss my job."

"So come back."

"It's not that easy. There aren't any positions there right now."

You fall quiet, and I know how much you hate that I'm right about this.

"So how long do I have to wait now?"

"Until they find a new ADA."

"Alex just come back. You can live here while you find a job."

"We already talked about this Olivia. Over and over and over again. I want to do this slowly. It's not like we're married, why can't we just take our time?"

"I miss you." You're quiet again, whispering. I can almost feel your breath on my ear, the way you talk to me when we're almost asleep in you bed.

"I love you Liv. I just need you to be a little more patient with me. I'm coming back. I swear."

"Ok." I can tell you don't believe me.

"Liv."

"What?"

"I love you."

_Olivia_

We talk about work for a while, my work, not yours. I don't want to talk about your work right now. We try to end tenderly, gently, but we both feel the tension on the line between us and I'd bet you won't sleep any better than I do tonight. I think part of what frustrates me so much is that I feel like I should be supportive. You went through so much, you got shot, you lost your whole life, you built a new life, you came back to the old life, and then you testified against the man that tried to kill you. I know that I should be sensitive to that.

But six months ago, you told me you'd be back within a year, and I agreed to that. I agreed that I could wait that long. But you have no idea how long this process could take, and I don't want to wait forever. Before you went back to Oregon, after the trial, Cragen mentioned the possibility that I could go with you, that I could move out there to be with you. But I just can't leave New York. I don't want you to get to a point where you feel like you can't leave Oregon. Your home is here with me. I wish I could make you understand that. No. Not even that. I want you to understand without me having to tell you.

In all honesty, I'm glad about this job offer for you. I know how much you miss prosecuting. I know how much you love standing in a courtroom, staring down a witness, watching a jury. I know how much you love that moment when you win the case-- not when the jury hands back the verdict… no. The exact moment that you've won. You know it before they even deliberate most times. I love the way your glasses slide down your nose, "the waggle of justice." Usually, when you can tell you've won, so can I.

Even in my anger I smile at that thought. God I miss you. I just wish I could fly out and bring you back myself. Wait.

I wish I could fly out and bring you back myself.

Why couldn't I?

Somewhere in the back of my head I ignore the voice that says, "Because it's not that simple." I get out of bed and go to the computer I bought secondhand from Elliot when Maureen got a laptop for school. Powering it up the way Munch showed me (32 times), I sign onto the Internet and do a little research. By the time dawn breaks through my windows I have a plan. All I have to do is a little shopping, and some serious begging. I grab two hours of sleep before heading into work to get started.


	2. Work

**Chapter Two: Work**

_Alex_

On Monday morning I start at the DA's office, at first surprised by the volume of cases in such a small place. Multnomah County isn't exactly tiny, but it's hardly New York. Still the stack of papers left behind by the former ADA is staggering. Did this man do any work at all before he got sent away? I spend my day trying to get the local squad captain to call me back, missing the days of Don storming into my office to check on a case. If you're worried about my getting attached to this office, I should send you a picture to alleviate your fears. Even my office in New York was nicer than this. And the whole place is so disorganized it's almost impossible to tell one case from another.

By the time I get half the paperwork sorted out it's after nine o'clock and I realize I've probably missed your call. I know you have an early shift tomorrow, so before I leave the office I pop off an email on my ancient computer, and take home three of the files I need to prepare for this week's court dates, hoping desperately I'll be able to brush up on some of the facts before I fall asleep for the night. I don't think I've ever missed our SVU squad so much in my life. And you, especially.

I fall asleep halfway through the second file when I get home, not bothering to eat dinner. I went through the files in chronological order so I feel at least peripherally ready for tomorrow's motion hearing. Hopefully I won't look like a complete idiot. Although don't think I could possibly do worse than the last guy. Most of his notes are illegible, and I swear some of them are just drawings of naked women. In his scribbly script its impossible to tell.

When my alarm goes off in the morning I jump awake, expecting to smell coffee brewing. As I stretch my hand out to your side of the bed I remember that I'm in Oregon, and suddenly I wonder why on earth I switched from corporate consultation back to prosecution. I'm already nervous about this week's cases. And there won't be anyone waiting for me to talk to when I get home. No arms to fall into. No dinner cooking on the stove. Just me, and this huge house, and a phone to connect me to you.

I spend most of the day in court, fending off some of the most ridiculous motions I've ever heard, and thanking Judge Petrovsky for making me fight so much to keep evidence over and over and over. I know how to argue against a suppression like no one else. I get all of my evidence into trial and stay late in the office getting ready for the jury. The case is fairly simple, and I don't foresee any problems, but I'm surprisingly nervous at the idea of standing in front of a jury again. I wonder if I'll still be able to tell when I've won. It's going to be strange, if I win-- **when** I win, not to have you to come home to. You always had the silliest celebrations when I won. Cakes or cookies, when you were drinking we had champagne too. After you quit it was sparkling cider. I wonder if I'll feel like celebrating if I win. I'm not sure if it'll have the same ring to it when I'm not with you.

I sigh and look over the testimony written up on my desk. I take off my glasses and scrub at my eyes. It's going to be a long night. I could probably go home but I want to be sure I'm ready. It's nearly ten before I finally close the file, and head home for the night, a little concerned that I didn't have a call from you earlier.

_Olivia_

Before I have a chance to talk to the guys, Elliot and I get called out to a scene. Not pretty, but nothing new. Rape out on a ho-row by the bridge. Looks pretty standard, Casey should have a ball trying to get anything out of the witness, a tranny with a spotty history. This week's arguments should be fun. Since you left though, Casey's been a little easier to live with. I'm not sure if it's because she's been distracted by Serena's incessant desire to move to D.C., or if she feels guilty about the way she treated both of us that last week you were here. Either way, she seems a little more patient with the squad, and the SVU/ADA relationship has settled into a more patient cycle. The other day she even invited me to lunch. Although I spent most of it listening to her stress about Serena, it's hard for me to sympathize since it's not as if she's leaving Casey for the opposite side of the country.

I keep hoping maybe Casey will go with her, but it appears that the real tension lies in Novak's desire to stay in New York. I wish I could transfer some of her rooted-ness to you, maybe then you'd come back, instead of signing up for a job that puts more time between us. I do understand why you want to do this. I do, really.

I pull myself back to the task at hand as Elliot grabs his badge and gun, pitching the phone back into its cradle.

"Let's go. Suicide attempt in Brooklyn we gotta go."

"Why are they calling us?"

"Evidently they can't get her to put down the knife, she keeps saying she was raped, and won't let anybody near her."

"Dammit."

By the time we get to the scene there's a group of officers huddled outside an apartment complex. I flash my badge and approach the one who looks most in charge.

"Benson, SVU. What've you got?"

"Girl in 5C's got a knife, threatening to kill herself. She's already cut herself a coupla times, when Officer Jackson tried to approach her she started screaming about being raped. She won't let anybody past the door of the apartment. Last time one of my guys tried she nearly opened a vein."

"You pushed her?"

"Look, Detective, I got almost an entire squad fulla guys tryin to calm this chick down. Why do you think we finally called you?"

"Key problem Officer, is 'squad fulla guys.' She's a rape victim. You know anything about your job?"

"Yeah, I know enough to know when something becomes your job."

Officer Malcom gestures to his guys and they start filing into cars, anxious to get away from "my job." I turn to roll my eyes at Elliot as he finishes talking to another uniform.

"Apparently she's still up there, she let the landlady get close to her once, but guys freak her out. This one's yours Liv, sorry. Says the girl's name is Kaylie Sawyer"

"Get a statement from the landlady, I'll get her calmed down so we can sort this out."

The apartment is a mess, and I'm assuming that the perp left this wake of damage behind him. There's a smallish, pudgy girl pacing back and forth over torn magazines and littered mail. She looks nervous and terrified and she's already bleeding from more cuts than I can count as she marches around her appointment, muttering to herself.

"Miss…. Sawyer? Kaylie?"

At my voice the girl whips around to face me, holding the point of the knife against her wrist.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me don't touch me. I have to get them out."

"Kaylie, my name is Detective Benson, and I heard you had some problems last night. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not even going to touch you, but can I come in and talk to you for a minute?"

She resumes her pacing, talking and gesturing with the knife in her right hand. I take the opportunity to step over the threshold, watching carefully to see her reaction, not wanting to push this too far. She pauses, looks at me, and then resumes pacing. I step all the way into the apartment as Elliot comes up behind me. I wave him away, and the slowly approach Kaylie, trying to talk the knife out of her hands.


	3. Plan

**Chapter Three: Plan**

_Alex_

When I hear the phone ring at eleven o'clock I know it has to be you. You left me 3 messages when you got home from work, wondering where I was. I know you didn't call my new work line because you're still angry. But after listening to your voice on the home answering machine I can tell you need to talk to me and I wish you'd just called me at the office. I stop listening halfway through the second message and pick up the phone as it rings.

"What's wrong?"

"Long day Lexi, I just needed to hear your voice." You sound so tense.

"What happened? New case?"

"Yeah. Vic's about 24, just moved out on her own. Apartment was broken into and ransacked. Money and jewelry all missing, plus a couple of art prints from her family. She's convinced her mom's step-dad raped her. By the time we got there she was wandering back and forth over the apartment cutting at herself. Took me almost an hour to get her to put the knife down and sit down to talk to me. It was pretty bad. I've seen terrified victims before but Alex, this girl was a mess. Before I calmed her down she kept saying, 'have to cut him out have to cut it out.'"

"You said she's _convinced_ the step.. what step-grandfather--- raped her? You're not sure yet?"

"Guy's got an iron-clad alibi. He's in the hospital dying of colon cancer. At the time the girl was being raped he was receiving pain meds directly from a nurse and night attendant. There's no way he could have done it, even if nobody could pinpoint his whereabouts-- the guy can hardly move, much less get across town to rape his granddaughter."

"So what are we thinking?" I don't catch myself before I say it… 'we.' I wonder if you noticed.

"Not sure. We're running the MO, and Munch and Fin have gone to talk to the mother. Huang's set to talk to Kaylie tomorrow at the hospital, and El and I are going back first thing in the morning to try and get an actual statement from her."

"What's your gut?"

"My gut? My gut is she's telling the truth."

"But the grandfather?"

"I think whoever she saw reminded her enough of him that she's got it committed to her head that way. I guess my gut is we have to wait to hear from Huang. But Jesus, Alex, by the time they stopped counting up all the nicks and cuts on her body they were up to one-hundred and twenty-two. 122 Alex. Something seriously disturbing happened to this girl and until I get a clear statement from her I'm lost."

"It'll be alright Liv, don't worry." I try to sound reassuring, but I can only imagine what the rest of your week is going to be like.

"So, how's the new job?" I can tell you're trying to be magnanimous, trying to sound like you want to know.

"It's the job. Not quite as frantic as New York, but still enough to keep me busy. I had a court appearance today, and another tomorrow, but it's fairly simple stuff. It's good to be back."

"I'm glad… I missed you today. It was odd to come home and not have you here. I even went by your old office. Not sure why though. My feet just sort of took me there. I miss seeing you."

It's sweet, this side of you. Your voice is absent of all the anger I felt the last time we talked, and I can finally hear **you** again instead of your frustration. I wish I had been there today. It would have been much better than fighting ridiculous motions in court all day. I'm sorry your day was rough, and I know you probably won't sleep much tonight, worrying about the case instead. I wish was there now, to help you sleep.

_Olivia_

I've given up being angry about your new job. After today I honestly don't care as much what you do while you're gone. I didn't get a chance to talk to the guys yesterday, but I'm determined today. I've got to get schedules worked out and put this new case to bed as soon as I can so I can get on with my plan.

As Elliot and I drive out to the hospital to see Kaylie, I pop the question.

"Look, I know you have some vacation time coming and I also know you don't intend to take it. So… instead of letting it go to waste I wondered if maybe you'd be willing to sign it over to me? I need to gather some off-days so I can do something personal."

"Personal huh? Would this have anything to do with a certain blond former ADA?"

"Not former, but yes."

"What do you mean not former?"

"Well, that's kind of the problem. She passed the Oregon bar and now she's working as a temporary ADA for some county in Oregon. I was already worried about her deciding not to come back, and now she's got back the job she loves on top of it."

"And my vacation time is going to rectify this how?"

"Well, I was hoping I could get Munch and Fin to sign some over too, then I could take like a month and go out to Oregon and bring her back."

"Like she's what Liv? A runaway child? I know you don't like it, but she's a grown-up Liv, you can't just haul her back against her will."

"That's not exactly what I had planned."

By the time we get to the hospital, Elliot is grinning… and promises to get the guys to hand over some of their vaca by the end of the day. I put my plans out of my head and get ready to talk to Kaylie.

She's lying still in the hospital bed, staring out the window into the city. As I enter, a tear escapes the corner of her eye.

"Kaylie, do you remember me from yesterday? I helped get you out of the apartment and here to the hospital. Do you remember what we started to talk about last night?"

"It was him." Kaylie doesn't turn her head, and I sit in the chair next to her bed, interrupting her gaze out the window.

"Kaylie, we talked to your mom last night. You're grandfather is a very sick man, he's in a hospital too. There's no way he could have been at your apartment last night. I need you to think really hard and try to tell me what you remember about last night."

Huang enters the room quietly; the nurses warned us that Kaylie is sensitive to men in her proximity. I need him to oversee this questioning, but none of us want to send Kaylie spiraling again.

"Kylie, it's important that you tell me everything you remember about last night. That way we can catch the guy that did this to you."

She turns her head, and meets my eyes. "He did it to me. Just like before. But this time he raped me. This time he didn't just touch me. This time you can get him."

"Honey, your grandfather didn't do this. He couldn't have."

Kaylie starts to cry, and I gingerly lay a hand on her shoulder, trying to gauge her reaction. When she doesn't pull away, George steps forward and speaks quietly.

"Kaylie, my name is George. I'm a friend of Detective Benson's. Why do you think your grandfather was the one that raped you? Has he done he ever hurt you before?"

I'm pleased to see Kaylie responding to Huang's voice-- although I don't know why. You and I both know that George could lull an angry cheetah into submission. She doesn't turn to face him, but as he pulls a chair up next to mine I don't feel her tensing under my hand. I start to pull my hand away, wanting to let George have time with her alone, "Kaylie, I'm going to go find your doctor ok? Why don't you talk to George---"

She grabs my hand and turns frightened eyes to me, "Don't leave me!"

"Ok… ok. Look, I'm going to sit right here ok?"

Kaylie nods, and I look at George, encouraging him to continue.

"Kaylie, why don't you tell me a little about your grandfather?"

Several hours later we not only have an official statement, a police sketch, and a suspect, but I have two months worth of vacation time from the guys. Munch and Fin go to haul in our suspect, and I let Elliot drive me home. I have some things that need to get taken care of.

_Alex_

"Hey hot stuff! How'd it go with the victim today?"

"It was pretty rough, but once George got her talking we sorted out a few of the details… including the bit about the grandfather."

"So what's the story?"

"Turns out the guy's a first class creep. Whole family thought he was a little odd, but nobody pegged him as a molester. First time he touched her he was visiting over the summer, took her to a movie and felt her up in the theater after insisting she sit on his lap.

"He came to visit every summer for the next three years, and each time he found an opportunity to molest her. She's not sure why he stopped visiting, but George thinks it has to do with the guy's target group. By the time he stopped coming around Kaylie was ten, and starting to hit puberty. The theory is he wasn't interested in women, just little girls. When Kaylie started looking more definitively feminine, he lost interest and stopped visiting."

"Jesus. So how does that tie in to the rape? Didn't you say the guy was dying of colon cancer or something?" I can't help licking my lips; this is the kind of case I'd love to try. Talk about justice, this girl deserves a heaping of it.

"Once we were able to convince Kaylie that her grandfather couldn't possibly have been the doer, she sat down with our artist and they were able to render up a decent sketch. We lucked out on evidence too,"

"Please tell me he left DNA."

"Better than that-- DNA inside her, and fingerprints on her belly. Guy was so busy holding her down that he didn't bother to wipe off the evidence when he was done."

Casey must be thrilled, only thing missing is an actual suspect

"And?"

"We got a hit. Guy's never been nabbed for rape, but he's faced a slew of harassment charges, a few sexual assault's that got dropped, and two B&E's that got pled out. Munch and Fin are picking him up tonight."

"I still don't understand how she linked the guy to her grandfather?" The connection seems important, and I'm wondering what you left out.

"Truth is, the guy looks exactly like the grandfather. Talk about body doubles."

"Are they related?"

"No. That's the weirdest part. Absolutely no connection. George is pretty sure it's the reason she flipped out so fast after the attack. He's calling it a minor psychotic break. She thought she was being raped by a former molester. The time in between her molestation and her rape had allowed her to finally feel comfortable. The sight of being raped by a man nearly indistinguishable from her molester pushed her over the edge."

"Hence the pacing and the cuts?"

"Exactly. Huang says that the fact that most of her cuts are centered on her upper legs, thighs, and hips indicates her desire to … 'excise' the traces of her former molestation. He says the suicide attempt was really secondary."

"Wow." You've had an incredibly full day. I can picture that sparkle in your eyes. You love this. You love finding the right guy. I wonder if you had that smug look on your face when you gave Casey the evidence. I'm sure you did. I wish I could be there with you to celebrate. I wish it was my case; this is the kind of case we could work on together, especially come trial time. Late nights at the office, business dinners, celebrating at home… together…

_Olivia_

You've gotten very quiet, and I can hear you thinking on the other side of the phone. I wonder what you're thinking about, but I think I know.

"Alex? You still there?"

You sound startled, and a little breathless, "Yes… yes still here, sorry. Just got caught up in my own brain."

"Thinking about anyone special?"

"Maybe." You go quiet again.

"Alex?'

"Sorry. I just… missed you all of a sudden."

"What you didn't miss me already?"

"Yes, but… I just… I was thinking about your case, and wishing I was there to work it with you. Casey must be thrilled."

"As thrilled as Casey gets yeah. Is everything ok?"

"It's fine Liv, I'm just tired. I've had a few late nights trying to get ready for this first trial. It's pretty simple, I just wish you were here."

"Well... you can always come back you know."

"Olivia." I hate that tone in your voice. I know you're tired of me saying it, but I can't help being afraid.

"I know Alex, I know."

"I'm still coming back."

We spend some time talking about your case, about your new job. I try to be supportive but I know I don't sound like I am. Listening to you be excited about work makes me realize that I'm right.

To get you back, I'm going to have to go to you, and give you a reason.


	4. Missing You

**Chapter Four: Missing You**

_Alex_

I wasn't surprised to hear the jury come back with a guilty verdict. It doesn't have quite the same ring to it knowing you aren't waiting outside the courtroom to see me, but it does feel good to be winning again. I can't keep the happy click out of my step, and I sink gratefully into the chair in my temporary office and pick up the phone to tell you about my win.

"SVU, Munch."

"John! It's Alex, how're you?"

"Fine Cabot, how's the weather in Oregon? What's the news on the left-wing political agenda these days?"

"You know not everyone in Oregon is a Democrat John."

"Right, and not everyone in D.C. is working for the government, but who am I to speculate?"

"Look, I was actually looking for Olivia, is she around? She didn't answer her cell."

"Well, she… uh. She swapped shifts with Fin, went home early."

"Is she ok?"

"Yeah, just said something about having important plans."

Plans? What plans? You didn't tell me about any plans. I say an absent-minded goodbye to John and hang up the phone, wondering where the hell you are. I pick up the phone to try you at home only to find the same answer at home that I did on your cell-- a canned version of your voice asking me to leave a message.

A few hours later I hear the phone ring and I snatch it up quickly,

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Um. Hello to you too Alex."

"Olivia. I have called everyone! I even talked to Elliot and he laughed at me. LAUGHED! Where are you!"

"I'm out."

"Out where?"

"Shopping." You? Shopping? What on earth is going on out there?

"For what?"

"Just shopping, nosy-- maybe I'm buying you a present."

"Well, is everything ok? Are you feeling alright?"

"Aside from missing you? Yes. I just have some things to take care of and I wanted a chunk of time today where I can do all the things I need to do. It's not a big deal Alex, calm down. Have you been flipping out over this all day?"

Uhoh. I knew I should have stayed calm. Now you're going to worry again.

"No."

"Liar."

"Ok, yes but I'm fine. Just… don't disappear like that again! At least answer your cell-phone."

"When you called I was in the tunnel."

"Which tunnel?"

"Does it matter? Stop fishing. If I'm buying you a present you'll get it soon enough."

I can't help it, I'm still angry, and I feel like you're hiding something from me. I just can't figure out what.

"How was court?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Did you win? Like I even need to ask."

"Yes, I won… where are you now?"

"I told you, I'm shopping. How long did they deliberate?"

I finally give up trying to argue with you, and tell you about my day. I'm still frustrated though, you know I hate surprises.

_Olivia_

It's all I can do not to laugh out loud listening to you worry about me. I know how you hate surprises but I can't help it just this once. When I finally get you of the phone, I turn back to the saleslady and apologize,

"Sorry, that was my girlfriend. I'm trying to surprise her and it's nearly impossible, even though she's in a completely different state."

"That's quite all right. Is that who this purchase is for?"

"Yup. It has to be just right, she's picky and I want it to be perfect."

"How long have you…?"

"Forever." It feels like that sometimes. "Not really, it's actually more like umm… 5 years I think? But she had to leave for awhile so technically it's more like 3."

"Two years apart? Sounds hard."

"It's complicated. Oooo, what about those?"

'Janice' pulls a tray of stunning platinum-clad rings out of the case and I pick up the one that caught my eye. I know as soon as I try it on that it's perfect for you. I can already see it on your finger. It's time to replace these silly silver friendship rings we've been wearing forever. It's a huge chunk of my savings, and I cringe thinking about my credit card bill as I pay for the rings and gather up the small bag. I smile at Janice and pretend not to hear her whispering about the 'lesbian' buying rings for her girlfriend. It's not worth the effort.

I head back to the street and catch a cab to the luggage store where I bought you your suitcases for our trip to Greece. Mine were old when we went, and they're in horrible shape. It's about time I got some new bags.

My shopping almost finished, I call the station to check on Munch and Fin's pick-up. Elliot answers the phone, "SVU, Stabler."

"Hey El, are the guys back yet?"

"Hey Liv, yeah" he chuckles before continuing and I hear a scuffle in the background, "Guy was… slippery."

"Slippery? He ran?"

"Not exactly."

"Elliot? What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story--"

John's voice breaks in from the pen, "And if you tell her I'll kill you!"

"But to sum up, picture John covered head to toe in frosting, pudding, and cake bits."

"What?"

"They took a detour through a bakery. John had a little trouble... navigating."

Elliot cracks up, and the sounds coming from Munch behind him get me going too. By the time we calm down, Elliot's able to tell me that the perp is in custody and wants to use Langden as his defense attorney.

"By the way Liv, your girlfriend called me. Strike that, your girlfriend called everybody. You might want to give her a shout before she files an MPR on you."

"I know, I talked to her. Sorry, when she called I was stuck in the tunnel and then she got me right when I was talking to the saleslady."

"Did you find something?"

"Yeah-- platinum-clad gold."

Elliot whistles, and I can feel my credit card cringing again.

"Yup. Took a decent chunk out of my savings. But it's worth it."

"So what's the plan?"

"Well, I want to see Kaylie's case all the way through. Casey thinks I'll probably be called as a witness by the defense."

"What? She didn't tell me that."

"Yeah, evidently they want to use Kaylie's condition at the time of the rape to try and fudge the ID. Since I was the one that dealt with her break, they want me to try and help prove that her state of mind makes the ID invalid. Once it's over I'll take my vaca time-- thank the guys again for me-- and head out."

Elliot tells me a little more about our perp, and after insisting on taking me to work in the morning we hang up and I stop off at Casey's office to discuss my pending summons.


	5. Trial

**Chapter Five: Trial**

_Alex_

After three weeks on the new job, I'm starting to hit my stride again. I've won 3 of my four cases, and the fourth is proving to be a real challenge for a change. I've sorted through the rest of the mess left by the previous ADA, who I've decided must have been some sort of idiot. I've had to start almost from scratch on most of the cases, and on the ones for next month, I'm going to have to fight with the local SVU captain to get some missing information.

I miss my SVU squad. We had our struggles, but at least I never lacked for cooperation. I've been banging my head against a wall with this squad ever since I started, and I'm starting to have flashbacks. When you call me late Friday night, I've just gotten off of the phone with their lead detective… who told me absolutely nothing. I'm looking at a working Saturday to go into the station house and convince them we're on the same side.

I've just put aside my work for the day and I'm exhausted, but I perk up when the phone rings because I know it's you, and that Casey's closing on the Sawyer case was this afternoon.

"How'd it go?"

"You know, one day, you're going to do that and thoroughly embarrass yourself."

"Actually I did once. I thought you were calling and when I said 'Hi Baby' and Arthur nearly fainted on the line." I can't help chuckling, picturing Branch's face turning red.

"Mostly though, I know it's you. So how'd it go?"

"Not bad. Casey did a decent cross yesterday and I had a chance to tell the jury what I really wanted to say, instead of what Langan wanted them to hear, and her closing was actually quite good. It won't get the sway you would have, but I'm pretty sure they'll convict him."

You sound please, and I find myself wishing again that I was with you to celebrate. "You and the squad going out to celebrate?"

"I thought about it. But I think I'm going to pass on this one. We had a long paper-work filled day and I'm ready to just sort of call it a night." There's a funny tilt to your voice and I wonder what's going on in your head.

"Is everything ok Liv?" You're quiet… trying to decide what to say without making me angry.

"Yes. I just miss you. I miss seeing your face asking me questions. Casey's eyebrow waggle is amusing, but it's no glasses of justice."

I don't know why that makes me cry. I've done pretty well so far, not letting my missing you catch up with me. Something in your voice maybe. Or hearing you talk about the glasses of justice, instead of saying one more time that I should come back. It's more tender somehow, and I sniffle away from the phone, wishing you were here to hold me.

"I miss you too Livvy."

_Olivia_

I don't try to tell you that you could come back. I've heard something change in your voice tonight. The last few weeks you've seemed happier than ever, and I've known that you're getting attached. But all of a sudden you sound so sad and I can't figure out why. I listen to you sniffling away from the receiver, and your quiet,

"I miss you too, Livvy."

We don't have much more to say, just a few more I love you's and then my line is quiet. I hang up the phone, and get up to re-examine my closet, trying to figure out what I've missed. I'm glad now that I've spent the last three weeks planning this trip. I wonder for a moment if I should call you back, tell you I'm coming… but the thought of this surprise is too delicious to pass up. Besides, you'll know soon enough.

I grab the leather jacket I bought for you, and fold it carefully into my suitcase. It's the last thing I have to pack, aside from the rings, and I zip my new suitcase carefully closed around it. It took me forever to find a jacket to match the one we finally threw away when you were here in February. You wore it to the closing of the Connors trial, and then fainted in it. I was starting to think I wouldn't find another like it when I saw it in the store window on my way home from a scene last week.

Elliot, Fin and Munch are going to make me pay for their vaca time donation. There's been much ribbing in the last few weeks, and even Cragen seems to have enjoyed the idea of me running after my girlfriend. But despite all of the teasing, when Elliot dropped me off after work tonight he took a moment to wish me luck, and asked me to tell you that he missed having you around. He and Kathy have reached a tentative bridge of communication. She's letting him have the kids a little more often, and she's stopped hanging up on him when he calls. I still think it's over, but who knows. He offered to drive me to the airport this afternoon, but he has the kids this weekend and I'm not willing to cut into his time with them when I can just as easily take a cab.

I'm finally all packed, and I tuck one ringbox into my pocket, and the other in my carryon in an inside zippered pouch. I'm nervous about losing them, and I want one in my pocket so I can use it to keep my nerves away. I call for a cab, and lug my bags downstairs, trying to remember what in the world I packed that required two large checked bags and two carry-ons. How did you always travel with more than one bag? I don't think I've ever used more than one bag at a time. I juggle my luggage into the trunk of the cab and watch the city fly by as we approach the airport, my nerves making a tight knot in my stomach.

I stroke the black velvet box in my pocket and hope I'm doing the right thing. I've got a stop in Dallas and one in L.A. before I get into to Portland International. I could have flown direct but after my splurge on the rings, I decided to fly cheap. Which means coach, and stop-overs. By the time I get to your place it will probably be after nine, and that's if my flights all leave on time. I check in my bags and make my way to the gate, watching carefully as my carryon and jacket, complete with ring box in pocket, travel through the security x-ray. When I collect my things on the other side, I step aside and pull out the ringbox, flipping open the top to look at it again. I run a finger over the cool metal and take a deep breath. Two hours later I'm bumping through the first leg of my trip, hoping I've made the right decision.

_Alex_

I slam the door behind me and throw my briefcase against the living room wall, not bothering to turn on the lights. I am beyond frustrated with the Multnomah SVU. The Captain is an old-fashioned man who doesn't entirely approve of a woman being named ADA. The team is all men, and between them they have the sensitivity of a lima bean. I'm surprised rapes even get reported in this county. I change into a pair of sweats and pitch my shoes into the closet, grateful to be done with the day. My feet are killing me after spending almost three hours pacing in the station house, not once having been offered a chair. I hate that I just wasted an entire Saturday talking to some of the most bull-headed detectives I've ever met… and that includes you!

I open a bottle of water and start a fire in the fireplace, hoping the heat will lull me into a state of relaxation. I pick up the phone to call you and worry absently when I get a canned greeting at both your apartment and cell phone. Remembering the last time I got overly worried though, I leave a message on both, then settle into the couch to watch the flames licking their way up to the chimney, listening to the gentle cackling, wishing you were here with me in your arms.

_Olivia_

When the flight lands in Portland I check my messages, not surprised to see two calls from you. Over the sound of the plane's taxi towards the gate I hear first an angry message, and then a tired one. Clearly your meeting with the SVU didn't go well, and by the time you've left the second message, it's taken a toll on you. What is it these last few days that's made you sound so sad… so tired? I know I've been bugging you about coming back, and I'd like to think you're just missing me, but something tells me there's more to it than that.

I consider returning your call, but decide to stick to my original plan. I make my way to the car rental counter and pick up the clunker of a sedan I reserved on special two weeks ago. It looks ridiculously similar to my work car, but it was the only thing I was willing to pay for. I give the clerk your address and get a fancy custom map that's supposed to help me find my way from Portland International to a tiny row of log-style homes on the edge of Salem. I crawl into the car with my bags and spend some time studying the map. Once I get out of Portland, it should be fairly simple. I start the car and head out of the airport, feeling closer to you every minute. I tuck one hand in my pocket to feel the comforting weight of the ring box.


	6. Surprises

**Chapter Six: Surprises**

_Alex_

I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep until I heard the phone ringing. The fire has died down a bit, and as I reach for the phone I get up to stoke the logs, starting to feel the night's chill between it's dying embers.

"Hello?" My voice is heavy with sleep, but yours is clear and close.

"Hi. Were you asleep?"

"Mmhmmm."

"Long day?"

"Did you check your messages?" I start waking up slowly, trying to clear my head so I can talk to you.

"Yeah, sounds rough. Tell you what, would you like a present?"

"What? Who delivers at this hour of the night?" I look around for the clock in the dark room, and finally give up, "What time is it anyway?"

"It's ... 11:30 Pacific."

"What are you doing up so late? That makes it 2:30 in the morning where you are."

"Does it?" You pause and I can't help but wondering if sleep has clouded me more than I thought.

"Don't you want to know who delivers at this hour?"

"Um... yes of course. Who delivers at 11:30 at night?"

"I do."

I shake my head, thinking I must not have heard you correctly.

"What do you mean, you do?"

The doorbell rings, pealing through the house and I can feel my heart start beating faster. You can't be... no way. I pull myself away from the large stone fireplace, trying to wake up more quickly. All of a sudden I'm not convinced I'm awake yet. I must be dreaming.

I get to the door and look out the peephole to see a familiar shape, wearing a familiar smirk. I open the door and discover that I'm not dreaming. As you step through the doorway and wrap your arms around me I'm too shocked to respond.

_Olivia_

The look on your face is priceless, you had no idea. I can't keep from smirking at you as you open the door, and I rather like that you're speechless as I wrap my arms around you.

"Hi Lexi, did'ja miss me?"

"Oh my god what are you doing here?"

"I took some time off." You pull away from me and take in the sedan in your driveway, and my bags on the doorstep. As you look back at my face your chin quivers and you start to cry.

"Hey... hey hey... None of that. This is supposed to be a happy surprise."

"I am happy. That's why I'm crying you idiot."

"Well since everybody's happy, can I come inside? It's freezing out here. What is up with this weather?"

You laugh, and grab for one of my bags as I drag the other two inside, pushing the fourth with my foot.

"It's Oregon... and almost October. Things change quickly around here. Besides, we're almost in the woods, the chill falls in early and stays late."

With the door closed behind us, you reach for a light switch but I take your hand, holding it in mine and looking at your home by firelight. It's a warm, cozy place despite its large size, and I can easily see how you can be so comfortable here. I'm surprised at the furnishings, it's a little cottage chic for your taste, and I can only assume the bureau furnished it for you before they brought you here. Still, telltale signs of your style peek in odd corners, and in the beautiful black and white photoscapes on the walls. I make a note to tease you later about your whiter than white walls, but for now, I just want to be close to you.

"What do you think?" You break our silence as I turn from my study of the room and back to you.

"It's big."

"Mmhmm."

"The fireplace is beautiful."

"It's my favorite thing. Can you imagine this in my old loft? Or in your rinky-dink apartment?"

"Hey now! My apartment is not rinky-dink."

You raise your eyebrows and your glasses slip down your nose, but you don't respond.

"Ok, maybe it's a little rinky-dink. But I have this fabulous interior decorator..."

You stop me with a kiss, and clearly you're over the element of surprise. I can't help moaning against your lips, melting into you. I pull my hand from the pocket of my coat and wrap my arms around you. I've waited seven months for this. The rest of my surprises can wait till later. Right now, I want to enjoy this one.


	7. Afterglow

**Chapter Seven: Afterglow**

_Alex_

It's the first time we've made love by a fireplace. Something I could definitely get used to, despite a brief bun-burning before we realized exactly how far away we needed to be. When we finish enjoying the sight and feel of each other, we lay curled together on my fluffy living room rug, your fingers running lightly over my butt, soothing the still warm spot that got just a little too close to the fireplace. I sigh my satisfaction, and you pull me in closer to you under my heavy cotton throw blanket.

"How's the bum?"

"Bum?" Sometimes your language is so amusing, so quaint. "It's fine." I moan as I feel your hands cupping my backside, pulling my lower half closer to you. I'm exhausted, but I can't help the way my body reacts to your touch. I crane my neck and bring my mouth back to yours, loving the way your tongue feels as it passes through my lips, darts beyond my teeth. There's always such a delicious texture to our kisses. I feel your fingers tickling the lines where my thigh becomes my butt, and despite the warmth of the room and our blanket, my skin gooses with the sensation. Your hands are smooth and so soft, tracing the cup of my cheeks, then playing across my hipbones, almost gripping my side and holding me so close to you that I can feel your new arousal between us.

You shift on the rug, moving our bodies until you're lying in your favorite position, and I move one hand to trace the curve of your side above me, but you pull your hands from my hips and use them to draw my arms over my head, holding my wrists gently above us with one hand, as the other cups my face, pulling me into your kisses. Your lips wander across my neck, tracing whispering lines along my collarbone, resting on my lightly scarred shoulder. Your tongue is cool against my fire-warmed skin and I squirm, wanting to touch you, but still pinned by your fingers above my head.

You're usually the more dominant of the two of us, more aggressive, but there's something new about the way you're holding me. I feel as though I'm being claimed, being spoken for. I like this little feeling of submission, the feeling of you staking your claim to me, to my body, to my reactions. As your lips brush at my breasts I arch into you, wordlessly asking you for more, surprised I still have the energy… more surprised that **you** still have the energy after all that flying and driving. As you come back to meet my open lips I stop wondering about energy. The push of your tongue against mine convinces me of your stamina, and I respond in kind, tasting your lips, your tongue. We battle back and forth, swirling against each other with longing. You loose your grip on my wrists, and draw my left hand down, pulling it between us, guiding me to your dripping sex.

"No teasing…" you whisper against my lips, then use your hand to dip my fingers beyond your swollen folds, encouraging a quicker rhythm than our last. As your hand leaves mine, I can feel your breath catching with each entrance of my fingers. You moan against our reunited lips, and I add a third finger, beginning to play around your clit with my thumb.

"No teasing," you whisper again, a desperate twinge in your voice. I tweak your clit with my thumb and feel your heart skip, swallowing your quickened breath as I explore your mouth with my tongue.

_Olivia_

I like the feeling of you pinned beneath me. I always enjoy being on top of you, but there's something even more arousing about being in control, about the feeling of your wrists held above your head by my hand, unable to touch me as I explore you. I can't hold out forever though, and the way your body responds to me brings out fresh desires, and I finally guide your hand between my legs, showing you what I want, what I expect. I'm exhausted from my day, but even after one session of fireside sex, I can't help that my body wants another. I never could get enough of you.

Without my asking, you add a third finger inside of me, and I can already feel my body clenching blissfully around you. You reach down with your other hand, gently pushing on my hip, as you whisper in my ear. Eager to comply, I turn my body above you, your fingers never breaking their rhythm even as I begin to deliver kisses to the tops of your thighs, coming slowly up to your wet center, teasing you just like I asked you not to do to me. As I breathe gently on your lips you moan against me, and you place your mouth against my opening, removing your fingers and using your tongue to dart quickly into me, then flicking at my clit before you resume your rhythm.

I take the hint and gently kiss you, treating you almost as I would your mouth, playing my tongue around your dripping lips, tasting your arousal on my tongue before I plunge into you, using one hand to cup you to me, and the other to play with your aching clit. I change the position of my hand and mouth and as I let one finger drag gently against your inner wall, I feel your body shudder beneath me. You mimic my motion, using a finger to brush the place inside me only you can find. The sensation of you tickling inside of me, your mouth around me, tongue probing gently at my clit is too much, and I feel you spasm against my own attentions, even as my own orgasm overcomes me.

I lay against you for a while, not moving, my body completely exhausted, my legs numb. Every inch of my skin tingles for a moment, and when I finally crawl back to meet your smiling lips, I fall asleep against our kiss, confident that this trip was right… confident that I've made the right decision. In a peaceful slumber, wrapped in your arms under a blanket by the fire, I dream about the rest of my surprises. As good as this was, I know I have something even better for you soon.


	8. Time

**Chapter Eight: Time**

_Alex_

When I wake Saturday morning, I can hear eggs crackling in a pan, and the clink of plates and glasses in the kitchen. I can smell you on the rug, and in the throw that we made love under last night. The fire is out, and I can feel the chill of morning on my skin. I reach out to pull my clothes back on only to find them missing. I gather the blanket around me and walk sleepily into the kitchen where you cook, fully clothed.

"Hey, where're my clothes?"

"Morning sunshine. They are in the washer with mine."

"But... did you think maybe I might like something to put on this morning?"

You turn around and look me over. "Nope, you're wearing exactly what I picked out."

"Liv!"

"What? It's been seven months since I've seen you naked and I want to enjoy it while I can. That throw goes beautifully with your complexion by the way."

I swat at you with one hand, and the throw drops down from my shoulders, sagging below my right breast, and exposing the nipple of my left. I blush, but don't bother to rearrange the blanket. The chill of the room hits my body, and I can see that look in your eyes as my nipple pops to a cool attention.

"mmmmm if I wasn't cooking, you'd be in big trouble Miss Cabot." You use one finger to trace the line of the throw against my skin, leaving even more goosebumps behind you. I lean in to kiss you, but there's a quick pop from the pan and you turn to tend the eggs as I wander into my bedroom to find some clothes.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Getting dressed, it's freezing in here!"

"You're the one who wanted to live in Oregon."

"Right, because its soo much warmer in New York right now."

"Well it's warmer when we're there."

I shake my head, hoping you haven't made this trip just to try and beg me back early. I love having you here... I love having you anywhere, but I don't want to spend any of this time fighting with you. When I emerge, fully clothed, food is already steaming on the table, and there are matching glasses of orange juice by our plates.

"No coffee?"

"Not until I get a chance to buy you some decaf."

"Liv, you do know my heart is fine right?"

You look up from the table, "Have you actually asked the doctor lately?"

I can't help sighing. "No. I haven't because I don't need to. It was a fluke baby. Just a funny little trick that happened because of an overly stressful situation. All six of the doctors you made me see told us that. And the two you convinced me to see when I got back did too."

"I still think you should be drinking decaf."

"I still think you worry too much."

"I just want to take care of you. You can't honestly blame me for that right?"

You reach across the table to take my hand, and for once I can't really read the expression on your face. Why do I feel like you're not done surprising me?

_Olivia_

I can't help being worried about you. It's only part of the reason I'm so anxious to get you back to New York with me. I reach for your hand across the table, tempted to bring out my little black box right now, but knowing I can do better. Still,

"I brought you a present..." I love the way your eyes light up, and you try not to look overly pleased. It gives your face that innocent look. Like a seven-year old on Christmas.

"I thought **you** were the present."

"Well, if you don't want anything else then--"

"No no! You went to all the trouble to shop after all."

I can't help chuckling, as I get up from the table to seek out the right suitcase. I can hear your fork clinking in the kitchen behind me, and I look back to see you clicking you fork against the plate, trying to pretend you're not peeking.

"Eat your breakfast!"

"Fascist."

"Just call me Jack Hammond. Turn around and eat."

I pull out the beautiful soft leather and shake out the coat, glad to see that it didn't wrinkle as badly as I expected. While I'm up, I find my own jacket over the back of the sofa and fish out the ring box, moving it to my carryon with its mate. I fold the jacket back up carefully, and pull out the ribbon Casey prepared for me. She may be a klutz, but that girl can wrap like nobody's business. I found a beautiful blue ribbon and took it to her before I left so she could make a bow to go around the jacket.

"Close your eyes!"

"I thought I was supposed to eat."

Fifty bucks says you're already done and have been trying to see what I'm doing.

"Ok, ok, eyes closed."

I walk back to the table, set the jacket on the seat of my chair as I gather our dishes and wipe the table, making sure there's nothing to stain the smooth brown leather. I come up behind you and place the jacket on the table in front of you, then pull my hands back to rest on your shoulders. "Now, no peeking until I tell you."

I pull a chair up next to you so I can be close to you, and still see the look on your face. "Ok, open."

You look down, and I watch your eyes go wide, and fill with tears.

"I thought we threw this away."

"We did, it's a new one. We had a scene out in Soho and I saw it in a shop on the way home. I caught a cab the next day and prayed it would still be there. They only had one left, in your size. I wanted to get us both one, but mostly I wanted you to have it. After everything was over and you were falling asleep in the hospital, you told me that you begged the doctors to let you keep it on because it felt like I was holding you when you wore it."

Now I'm tearing up and feeling ridiculous as I always do. What is it about you, about us that turns me into such a girl? "I want you to know that no matter what happens, and no matter what you decide, or I decide, or we decide... my arms will **always** be around you."

_Alex_

I love that look on your face. The way you try to still your eyes, your mouth, trying to not to cry with me. Someday I'm going to have to find the words to tell you how much I love this side of you. You think it makes you look weak... crying. But there's something so strong in your tears. For the moment though, you fight against them, and I pick up the bowed bundle in front of me and hold it to my nose, breathing in the deep leather scent that mixes with the cinnamon of you that rubbed off from it's trip with your clothes in your suitcase.

My eyes are closed and I sit for a minute, memorizing this moment. Memorizing these smells. You're still quiet, and I realize that I've probably been sitting here too long. I open my eyes and look at you as you search my face for a response.

"It's beautiful. I love it Olivia, thank you." I lean to kiss you in appreciation.

"Put it on."

I stand and you untie the ribbon and help me slide my arms through the long soft sleeves, then come around to face me and slide your arms around my waist, inside the coat, and pull me close to you so that the coat covers part of you as well. I rest my head on your shoulder and take in the feel of you here.

"I missed you."

"I know. I'm sorry I've been so annoying, bugging you about coming back."

"It's ok." This apology is sudden, but heartfelt. I can't help hoping that while you're here I can show you exactly why this decision has become so hard for me to make. Suddenly I realize I have no idea how long you're here for.

"How much time off did you take off?"

"The guys all pitched in some vacation time, and Fin even tossed in some sick days. I've got two months to bum around here."

"Leather coats, plane tickets, new luggage, time off... how are you affording all of this?"

"Carefully."

I look at you over my glasses. I know how frugal you are. I also know you have some savings, but you won't have much if you keep on like this.

_Olivia_

Here's something I hadn't expected. We never talk about money. Partly because I think you don't want to emphasize your rather hefty trust fund, and partly because I've never really cared that much.

You're giving me that look over your glasses.

"I set aside a little extra when I was planning for this. I just went back to one-tomato dinners for awhile Alex, it's not like I stopped paying the electric bill."

You're going to flip when you see those rings. For the first time I feel genuinely nervous about giving it to you.

"Don't worry about the money Lexi, it's not important. I just... did what I needed to do that's all. Besides, the guy said that when they take the kidney, they put me to sleep so I shouldn't feel a thing."

It takes you a minute to realize I'm joking as you pull away from me.

"Olivia!"

"What? I was kidding. Do you really think I'd sell an organ?"

"Well, I worry about you too you know."

"You do realize you sound completely ridiculous? Are you sure you're a lawyer?"

You swat me gently upside the head and I shake my hair and lean in to kiss the smile that's creeping over your lips.


	9. A La Carte

**Chapter Nine: A La Carte**

_Alex_

As usual, Monday comes too quickly and I can't help being jealous as you lie sleeping in my bed while I get up to grab a shower, already running late for work. As I rush out to door to my car, I stop to leave you a note about groceries, and how to work the TV and other bits and bobs I forgot to mention over the weekend. I wonder what you're going to do all day.

Yesterday you said something about exploring Portland, wanting to see how it compares to New York. It surprised me after listening to you bitch about how hard it was to find the right way out of the city when you flew in. I left you a few of my better maps just in case you decide to venture out, and make the thirty-minute drive to work, missing the days of catching a cab or the subway. I pull into traffic and check my watch. I'm definitely going to be late. With one hand on the wheel, I sort through my briefcase and pull out my file for court. If I can just avoid the traffic on 5, take a back road into town, I might make it into court without looking like a complete idiot.

As I park in the courthouse garage I dial up the house on my cell. You must be in the shower and I assume you'll feel at home enough to check the machine.

"Hi Liv, I just pulled in at work and I forgot to say I probably won't be home for lunch. I have an in chambers meeting that I need to prepare for, and two motions to fight from a particularly skeezy defense attorney. I'll give you a call when I have a better hold on my schedule. I left some maps and a grocery list on the table. There's also a little cash there for the food, have fun and don't get lost."

I hang up quickly, cringing as I see my opponent, a man so slimy even Trevor looks good in comparison. "Mark."

"Miss Cabot! I trust you received my motions."

"Very optimistic, motion to suppress and a motion to limit scope of search? Overcompensating for something?"

"Funny Alex. Those detectives were out of line and you know it. The warrant was about as good as the paper it was written on, especially since there's no real evidence to tie my client to the victim."

"You know Jacobs, you're right. Absolutely nothing, except his daily stop for coffee at her convenience store, where he admits to ... what was it now... oh right, 'wanting to do that bitch ever since the first time I saw her.' No Mark, you're absolutely correct, totally groundless."

"Save your dramatics for chambers Cabot, you'll need them."

He pauses to hand me another motion, and I don't need to read it to know it's a dismissal. I open it anyway, and confirm that my day just got much longer and more annoying that it was already slated to be. I stop in my office to grab a file and check a case precedent before dashing off to my chambers meeting.

An hour later I've quashed all three motions, and Jacob's has managed to make himself look like a complete idiot. Today is going to be a good day, and I feel confident and secure as I march back to my office to prepare my case for this afternoon's trial. I can't keep the smirk off my face as I watch Jacobs hurry past me with a scowl, going to take the bad news to his soon-to-be convicted client.

As a courtesy I call Letzer, the captain of my new SVU squad, letting him know that the trial should begin as scheduled this afternoon. As usual, the man sounds like he couldn't care less, and I hang up frustrated once again. I'd love to take you over to their station and let you loose there for a day. I've no doubt you could clean them up quickly, and teach them what it means to be an SVU detective.

While I'm still thinking about you, I pick up the phone to call your cell.

_Olivia_

"Hey you! How's work?"

"Not bad. I'm about ready to strangle the entire SVU squad but other than that things are going pretty well."

"Problems?"

"ugh. Just a bunch of men who really don't care that much."

"Isn't their unit by volunteer too?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what these guys are doing here, but it really makes me miss the days when Don was storming in and out of my office at regular intervals."

"Heh. So what's on the plan for today?"

"I have a trial after lunch, so I won't make it back to eat, but if things move quickly enough I'll probably make it home for dinner if you don't mind me bringing a file or two with me."

"Of course not! What time should I expect you?"

"Not sure, can I give you a call when I get a break?"

"Sure. Anything special you're hungry for?"

"Surprise me." Well that's something new. Usually you like things all planned out. It's why I was a little nervous about this trip. You love to surprise me, but you hate being surprised. Or you did anyway. I grab your list, after making one of my own, and leave the cash on the table. I do take the maps however, remembering how... interesting it was getting out of Portland and into your Salem-edged neighborhood.

Three hours later I've got semi-melted groceries in the trunk and I finally find my way back to your house. I never thought I'd say it but I miss the subway. How the hell does anybody find their way around here? Half the streets are barely paved, and most of them are only two lanes. Still, it's a beautiful place, and I can understand how someone could get attached here. Even the air is different out there. And in your house by the woods I'm amazed at how crisp the air is. I'll have to bring out my sneakers while I'm here and hike around.

In the meantime I have chicken thawing in the trunk, and I hurry to get it back in the fridge. Once it's safe, I pull out the mushrooms and arrange the spices as I'll need them to make your favorite pasta. It won't be from scratch since you (as always) lack some of my more chef-ly supplies, but I can still whip up a sauce from nothing, and the mushrooms look incredibly fresh. I chop all the necessary vegetables, and at four o'clock everything is ready to start cooking. I take my first real opportunity to peek around this place without you here.

I'm surprised to see you haven't done much painting, since you're the decorator in the family. Maybe it's just that you didn't want to get too comfortable, which is encouraging to me. At five-thirty you call to say you can be home in about an hour, and I start cooking, wanting to bake the chicken slowly so I don't lose any of the flavor.

When you walk in the door a little under an hour later, I can hear you sniffing the air, knowing that it's filled with all your favorite scents. As you step into the kitchen I turn around so you can see the second part of your surprise. I know you're familiar with the apron, I've greeted you with this particular sight before. The table is set, and I already have a fire going. I was going to wait until you got home to start the fire... but when you're not wearing anything but an apron and a smile... it gets a little chilly.

_Alex_

The sight of you in that apron immediately eases all of my work-related tension and I can't suppress a whole-hearted laugh. I love that thing. Especially when it's all you have on. It might even be better than my leather jacket. There's just something about the way it barely covers your curves that's sensual, and even a little silly. I set down my briefcase and take a minute to look you over from head to toe. Your body is tan and muscular, and your hands are perched on the slope of your hips, and above the top edge of the apron I can see just a hint of your cleavage, the swell of your breasts against the apron popping its Williams-Sonoma logo.

"Wow. Dinner? For me? I mean, I know I asked for a surprise, but I never expected you to prepare Olivia A La Carte. How did you know?" I wink at you as I walk into the kitchen and close the distance between us. Your grin gets bigger and you take my hand and reach around behind you to place it on your naked ass.

"See something you like?"

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Good, the chicken's all ready and the pasta should be done in a second. Why don't you drain it while I change."

"But-- wha-- hey!" Well this just isn't fair. And judging by the look on your face, you know it too. I leave the pasta boiling while I watch you walk out of the kitchen with an exaggerated swish to your hips. I can't help but lick my lips... until I hear the water start hissing on the stove and turn from my leering to tend to the pasta.

_Olivia_

I love the look on your face when I pulled away and told you I was going to change. The way your hand brushed off my ass as I walked away. I almost decided to let you make me dinner after all, but I worked hard on that, and after three hours of being lost on these crazy roads, I'm not letting this meal go to waste. By the time I come back you've picked your jaw up off the floor and the pasta is in the colander over the sink. I come up behind you as you shake the pasta to drain, placing my hands over yours on the handles, and resting my chin on your shoulder. We put down the strainer and you turn to kiss me, both of us warmed by this domesticity.

I could get used to this, cooking together, eating together. I can't get over how right it feels, looking at you across the table, watching you rub your lips together, savoring the food I prepared for you. The way you close your eyes after each bite, moaning around your fork. I forgot how sensually you react to food. I forget about my own plate, watching you enjoy your favorite meal... well besides Olivia A La Carte. You open your eyes to see me staring, and I wake from my reverie, and take my first bite, wanting to finish quickly so we can get to dessert.


	10. Intentions

**Chapter Ten: Intentions**

_Alex_

By the time our two months are almost over, I can't imagine being here without you. We've settled into this insanely beautiful routine, and I can't help feeling at ease in every aspect of my life with you around. Work is still a struggle, and I'm still being frequently stonewalled by my SVU squad, although they've gotten a little less hostile after you "talked" to the lead detective about a certain derogatory comment he made while we watched another detective interrogate a suspect. I wish I'd seen the look on his face when you stormed into their bullpen. He certainly looked... intimidated in my presence afterwards.

I've stopped thinking about you going back to New York; I don't want to think about how empty this place is going to be without you. Your things in my closet, your body in my bed, your cooking in my kitchen. Knowing you're here when I get home from work makes even the worst day more bearable, and it's going to be hard to let you go. I've almost forgotten that we've tried this before without success, and even though I still have to puzzle out how you feel sometimes, I've just about lost the memory of your former reticence. You talk often about your childhood now, telling me stories about the way you grew up, about what it was like to live with your mother. I'm amazed at some of the things you've heard and experienced in that house, and there have been a few nights in this time when I've held you close as you cried out the pain of those memories.

Even with all of the improvements, all of your revelations, I can't shake the feeling that there's something you're not telling me. Every so often we'll have these nearly perfect moments, times when our stillness together is like a picture, these perfect snapshot moments that I never thought existed outside the movies. We've used the fireplace often, as the winter settles into Oregon... and it's become a nightly ritual to clean up after dinner, then change and meet in front of the fireplace, cuddled into each others arms, watching the fire and talking.

And now here we are, the week before you leave and I feel like you're a part of me again. As thanks for jumping in during their time of need, the DA's office has given me an extra day off before and after Thanksgiving, and I can't wait to celebrate together. The last time we were in the same place for thanksgiving, I was forced to endure one of mother's fundraising dinners, and you had to work. Turkey sandwiches and a fight at midnight weren't exactly my idea of a celebration, but this year we're going to fix all that.

_Olivia_

I love thanksgiving. The last time I actually had anyone to cook for I was still in high school, cooking for mom and myself. Not that it did any good since she passed out in a stupor before the turkey was even done cooking. During our last year together, I'd wanted to do something just the two of us, but work and one of your mothers charity balls got between us during the day, and at night our own pent up anger and discontent kept us from really celebrating.

You've got extra time off from work now though, and I've been shopping for a week, stocking up on extra spices, and some newer cookware, wanting this holiday to be perfect. The bird is small, but the potatoes, gravy, and stuffing are all going to be made from scratch, and I can't wait to see you try your hand at baking a pie. Hopefully you'll be better at that than you were at Teriyaki.

You're still at work tonight, finishing up some files so that you can relax over your gracious five-day holiday from work. I've been cooking all day, testing out stuffing recipes, wanting to find the perfect mix of cornbread and Yankee stuffing. I turn down the oven as my cell phone rings in the other room, and I'm breathless as I reach it one ring before voice-mail.

"Benson, chef of the century"

"Hey Liv! Happy Thanksgiving."

"Stabler! You sound happy, got the kids for the holiday?"

"Yup, Kathy and I are starting come to some sort of mutually satisfying custody agreement."

"That's great El! But I'm pretty sure that's not why you've called."

"Nope, I actually have some news for you."

"Really?"

"Casey's leaving."

I shake my head, sure I've heard you wrong.

"Say that again?"

"Casey's leaving. Serena finally found a job in D.C. and Novak's decided to go with her."

"No way." I can't believe this gift. "No way. Elliot please tell me this isn't a joke. Because if it is I'm going to fly back to New York tonight and strangle you."

"Not a joke. She put in her official notice and after the New Year... she's joining Serena in D.C."

"Elliot, I am so happy right now I could KISS you."

"I really don't think I'm your type... and wouldn't your girlfriend object to that?"

"Don't know, you can ask her later! I'll call you when I get back all right? Tell the kids I said hi, and I'll see you in a week!"

"Later Liv."

I hang up the phone and can't resist doing a little jig around the bedroom. In all honesty I will miss Casey a little bit, but I have calls to make before I can feel bad about it. Branch is first on my list, then Liz... and then one I'm actually dreading a little-- your mom.

_Alex_

By nine o'clock I'm exhausted, but all of my files are done. Willams stopped by at about seven to tell me they're starting to narrow down the search for a permanent ADA, and that it would probably be good timing for me to start looking for something permanent myself again. I'm a little nervous about running into the same walls I hit before, but I'm glad to see this job coming to an end. I'm tired of fighting idiot detectives and a positively primitive captain. I make a note to call Branch tomorrow to refresh my contact list, and cross my fingers that something's come up since the last time I sent out my résumés.

I drop some files at Williams' office and leave a quick thank you note under his door. I walk to the car and close the door behind me, leaning back in the seat for a minute before I venture back to the house. I want to savor this moment, that end of the day feeling coupled with the knowledge that you're at home waiting for me. I only have a week left to enjoy this time, and I want to soak in every second. I turn on the car and head for home, wondering what you'll be wearing for me tonight.

_Olivia_

I was planning an apron surprise again tonight, but I've decided I'd rather have all these phone calls out of the way. I realize how late it is in New York, so I leave messages for Liz and Arthur, making sure they know you'll want to put in a résumé for the ADA position. I don't need to ask you first, I know what you'll say. Your mom I call at home.

She answers on the first ring, just like you always do, and I can feel my stomach in my throat.

"Mrs. Cabot, it's Detective Benson."

Silence.

"I'm sure you remember me, I'm Olivia, Alex's ... um... girlfriend."

"Yes of course." Her tone is clipped, short. I can tell I'm the last person she wants to talk to.

"Mrs. Cabot, I wanted to talk to you about Alex."

"_Detective_, I want you to give me a very good reason why I shouldn't hang up on you."

"Because you have to know how much I love your daughter to put myself through the torture of speaking with you." I shake my head, I don't know why I'm surprised at how quickly she irritates me.

Sighing, I try again. "Mrs. Cabot, I know that you don't approve of my relationship with your daughter. I get that. Really, I do. And I can understand how someone of your... social ilk could disapprove of our feelings for each other. But surely you can't deny that your daughter and I love each other very much, in spite of your objections."

"What is your point Miss Benson?"

It's all I can do not to growl in frustration.

"My point is that I wanted you to know my intentions."

"Intentions? And what intentions are those? I think I've seen enough of _your_ particular intentions towards my daughter thank you very much."

Well, I knew it wasn't going to be easy, and I give up trying to stall,

"Mrs. Cabot, before I go back to New York, I'm going to ask your daughter to marry me."


	11. Perfect

**Chapter Eleven: Perfect**

_Alex_

"Hey you! Where's my girl?" I'm surprised not to see you waiting for me in the kitchen. I open the oven door to find a slightly charred... is that stuffing? It's not like you to let something burn.

"Hey, Livvy? Where are you?" I hear some movement in the bathroom, and go to open the door, surprised again when I find it locked.

"Liv, are you ok?"

"I'm fine Alex, I'll be out in a minute." I could swear I hear you sniffling, and when you finally emerge I almost think you've been crying.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing Alex, really. Look, I killed dinner, how about going out?"

"Are you sure? You look tired."

"I'm positive." You smile, but I can still tell something's wrong. I decide not to push as you give me the gentlest of kisses, and instead I follow you into the bedroom and change into something more comfortable as you pull on some jeans and a leather jacket.

At dinner, you try to be relaxed and interested, but I can still see you're distracted. Halfway through our meal I move over to your side of the table, and we finish eating hand in hand, silent.

_Olivia_

When you came home from work, I was still trying to wash away the tears my conversation with your mother left on my cheeks. It's not as though I expected her support, but some of the things she said tonight were cruel to a degree I've never seen before. I've heard kinder things from suspects. After Elliot's good news, I was so hoping maybe luck was on my side. Regardless, I'm still going to continue with my plan, but I can't shake my sadness at your mother's refusal to recognize the beautiful person I know you to be. I managed to slide the lock home on the bathroom door just as I heard you stop outside the door, and I'm grateful that you don't push me when I come out.

I'm still not feeling myself over dinner, and I feel guilty, knowing you're concerned about me, but I just can't shake your mother's voice from my head.

_"You have made my daughter a pervert. Because of you she's no better than the men she used to put in jail."_

_"I'll never understand Alexandra's desire to fix people. I'll certainly never understand her desire to fix _you_ of all people"_

I'm brought away from her voice as you slide into the booth next to me, picking up my hand with yours, and holding it through the rest of our meal. I manage not to cry, but I can't help the desire. I'll never understand how anyone could push you away.

_Alex_

The next two days, you're more solemn than before, and as much as I'd like to think it's because you're sad about leaving, I can't help noticing a touch of anxiety in everything you do. You actually overcooked last night's salmon and that's when I decided I had to say something. You cook salmon like it's a religious experience, and the fact that you served it overdone makes me think this is serious.

"Ok. That's it. Talk to me."

"Sorry about the salmon."

"It's not about the salmon Liv. What is going on with you?"

"I'm just a little nervous about something. I promise I'll be better by tomorrow."

"Why?"

You look up and for the first time in two days I can see a sparkle back in your eyes. "Because I have a really wonderful gift to be thankful for."

"Boy do you know how to make a girl blush."

"I am you know."

"What?"

"Grateful. For you. I don't think I say that enough."

"Olivia."

"I just wanted to say that... that's all. Why are you looking at me like that?"

I can't help the confused look on my face. It seems like all of a sudden whatever clouds were hanging over your head are gone.

_Olivia_

After ruining a perfectly good salmon I give up worrying about your mother. Screw your mother. Actually, I wonder if that would help. Maybe I should try to find her a boyfriend... then she won't worry as much about how I'm perverting you.

I can tell you're confused when I suddenly shift out of my doldrums, but once I finally cast your mother out of my head, all I can do is think about tomorrow. You have no idea what's in store after dinner, but I've discovered that with my biggest surprise only one day away, I'm not nervous anymore. I've had to remind myself not to carry the box around with me, since you've taken to walking around with your hands in my pockets to keep warm. It's a cute little gesture, but it means I have to trust the rings will be safe in my suitcase, hidden away under the bed.

_Alex_

By the time I wake up Thanksgiving morning, I can already smell the most incredible combination of spices coming from the kitchen. Seeing that it's only 8am, I wonder how long you've been up. When I drag myself into the kitchen you're bustling about with nervous energy, checking on the roasting turkey, and mixing together a bunch of things I don't recognize, then opening cupboards and digging around for I don't know what.

"Hey chere chef. Gotta minute?"

I step into your path and stop you with a kiss.

"Morning sleepy-head. Coffee's brewing."

"Sleepy-head? Olivia it's only 8am! How long have you been up?"

"Ummm since 5:30 I think. Lots to do."

"You do realize you're not cooking for the whole town right? Just us?"

"Yup, it just has to be perfect. And since everything's from scratch it's a time-consuming process."

"I see." You're already spinning away from me, checking something on the stove.

"Ok, well... since you seem to have everything under control, I'm going to take a shower. Back in a bit."

"Mmhmmm."

I leave you to your chef-ing and step into the bathroom, dumping my clothes in the hamper before easing under the deliciously hot water. Before long, I hear you come in, and feel your body climbing in behind me.

"Hi. What happened to dinner?"

"Well, I turned the heat off on the stove, and the turkey can live without me for a little bit. And everything else can wait to get started later. So I thought I'd have a little... breakfast." You have that look in your eyes, and I can't suppress a groan as you lower yourself to your knees, staring up at me from between my legs, water streaming down your face, and giving your tan body a reflective glow.

_Olivia_

I feel bad for ignoring you in the kitchen, but once things are set up to continue without my supervision, I decide to make it up to you. I slip into the shower behind you and turn you around from the spray to face me.

"Hi. What happened to dinner?"

"Well, I turned the heat off on the stove, and the turkey can live without me for a little bit. And everything else can wait to get started later. So I thought I'd have a little… breakfast." I sink to my knees, noticing that your shower has better traction than mine does... I'll have to ask where you got the mats... but later. For now, I look up through the falling water at the grin that's spreading across your face. I nuzzle my nose in your peachfuzz, and then slide my tongue up the opening of your slit, gathering the water and your juices on my lips, using it to part you, dipping gently towards your heat as you moan above me.

I suckle you gently, slowly moving my tongue savoring the taste of you in my mouth. Your hand reaches down and tangles in my hair, holding me to you as I slowly move my tongue inside you, stretching to reach your walls, then pulling out to tease your clit as the water falls around us, mixing with you as it slides down my face, my chin, drips down my shoulders and drops from my breasts. The mat beneath my knees is softer than it looked, and for once I'm able to really enjoy having you here.

I peek up at your face, water dripping onto my face as I slide one finger inside of you, watching you bite your bottom lip in response to my actions. Your eyes are closed and they squeeze tighter as I add a second and third finger, and you moan your approval before whispering into the water,

"Jesus, Liv. Don't stop."

Lucky for you, I have no intention of stopping, and instead I put my mouth back to you, taking your swollen clit between my lips, twirling around it with my tongue as my fingers continue to push and pull inside of you. When I'm ready for you to come, I find that hidden spot with my middle finger, tickling gently inside of you and giving your clit another flick as I feel you clasping around my fingers, trying to draw me in, to keep me inside of you as your orgasm weakens your knees. My fingers slide from inside of you, coated as you sink slowly down the wall of the shower, squatting awkwardly in front of me as you reach to pull my head towards you, your lips already open and waiting for my tongue. We readjust our positions and I sit on the floor of the shower as you sit in my lap, legs straddling my hips. You kiss me deeply, moving your tongue inside my mouth to massage mine, and I feel your hand moving from behind my back, over my shoulder and then down, pausing to play absently with my nipple before you move further downward, your fingers finding a way between our bodies to stroke my own slit, to flick my own clit as I feel my own arousal building as the shower slowly goes from hot to lukewarm, and the smell of dinner weaves its way through the air. By the time you let me come, it's time to get out and check on the turkey, and I can't help smiling... thinking that this is the perfect way to begin this perfect day.


	12. Asking You

**Chapter Twelve: Asking You**

_Alex_

We eat an early dinner, and everything is amazing. I don't know… or care what you did to the turkey but I've never had anything so delicious and full of flavor in my life, even mom's best cooks never came close to this. Now I understand why you were up so early-- I'd never be able to coordinate all of this, but because you're you everything is perfectly timed and steaming from it's place on the table between us.

When we've finished stuffing ourselves, we decide to let dessert wait until later, and I'm glad I bowed out of making the pie. I don't know what you made instead, but I can guarantee we wouldn't have anything edible if I'd done it. We leave the dishes for later and head into the living room to watch the fire crackle, listening to the rain pouring down around the house.

I wake up alone on the couch, not sure when exactly you extracted yourself from my arms, but knowing from the sounds in the other room that you've left to do the dishes. I debate getting up to help you, but I'm lulled back to sleep by the fire, and the sound of you in my home, filling up the space inside me that felt so empty before I met you. In my dreams, I think about how far we've come these last years, how much we've been through. The scent of you fills my dreams, and I smile as sleep leaves me again and I find myself in your arms once more.

_Olivia_

I hate to leave our snuggling, but I want the dishes to be done before dessert. I put away most of the silverware, and package up our leftovers. When it's all done, I set the table again, using the few pieces of blue-patterned china you brought with you from New York. I place a spoon next to each plate, and dig up the candles we didn't have room for on the table during dinner. I find the blue linen napkins I picked up in town earlier this week, and tie a white ribbon around each, making a tiny bow like Casey taught me before I left New York. When everything else is ready, I tuck the spoons under the bows, and on yours I add a little something extra, laying it carefully by your plate, placing an empty black box in a drawer, and putting it's still-full matching velvet box in my pocket.

I return to you on the couch after checking to make sure the dessert has set properly, and gather you sleeping back into my arms, waiting for you to wake up and enjoying the chance to watch the reflection of the fire on your face. How is it that one person can be so beautiful? Sometimes the sight of you moves me to tears, the lilly-glow of your skin, that crystal in your eyes. The shape of you is something out of an art book, delicate lines and shadows to inspire even the crudest sculptor. Your weight in my arms is comforting, giving me a warmth beyond just the heat of our contact. I try to figure out when exactly you dug into my heart this way. When was it that I first knew there'd never be anyone else but you? Last year? Before you died? Before we lived together? Or maybe it was the first time I saw you, eyes flashing and lips set in that firm lawyer grimace. I couldn't stop looking at you. I couldn't stop staring at that face, at the fire you have inside.

I pull your hair back over your shoulder, relishing the feel of its softness in my fingertips, lowering my head to breathe in the scent of you. For the first time today, I'm a little nervous. We haven't talked about this step really. Haven't talked about the levels of our relationship. I've been trusting this is something you'll want, but for just a moment, before your eyes start to flicker beneath their lids as you cast away your sleep, I feel the slightest twinge of worry. It's quickly banished though, as a smile plays across your lips at the sight of me watching you. No. This can't possibly be wrong.

_Alex_

I love waking up in your arms, still feeling full from our dinner, feeling fuller still with the feeling of graciousness for your presence in my life. I wish I was going back to New York with you on Monday. I feel silly for all of my insistence on independence for my return.

There's a new expression on your face, something I've not seen there before. I flush from your study of me, and pull one of your hands to my lips, kissing the palm, as I push my body further back into your embrace. I don't know how you pulled me into your lap without waking me, but I'm glad you did. I love the feeling of being tucked into your body this way. I pull your hand to my heart and hold it there with mine, not speaking, just soaking in this time together. I can feel you breathing behind me, and I match myself to you, incredibly moved by the intimacy of this moment.

You kiss the top of my head and break our silence, and in your voice I could almost swear I hear the barest trace of anxiety,

"Ready for dessert?"

_Olivia_

You sigh in my arms, then nod. I pry myself away from you then take your hand, pulling up to kiss me.

"Stay here, I have to make sure it's ready. And no peeking."

You nod again, and head towards the fireplace to encourage the flames, readjusting the logs carefully.

I move to the kitchen and pull out the nameless strawberry and chocolate dish that I spent three days perfecting. I'm relieved to see it's set the way I hoped, and I take a minute to drizzle a fresh cocoa glaze over the top, then set it in the center of the table, between the candles that I light before going to get you from the other room.

You've been asleep for several hours, and outside the house the world is dark, and I shut off the light in the living room, taking your hand in mine, and placing the other over your eyes. I lead you gingerly into the kitchen, pausing to dim the small chandelier before I take you to your chair, telling you to keep your eyes closed as I move to sit next to you at the adjoining corner of the table. I want to be close when you notice your napkin, and I want to be able to see your face without having to look over the candles.

_Alex_

I can't understand why you're being so mysterious about dessert. I mean, I realize I've been forbidden to peek at whatever's been setting under the foil in the fridge for the last three days, but this is starting to feel a little ridiculous.

Still, I let you place a hand over my eyes and lead me into the kitchen, pausing to dim the lights before you seat me in my chair, admonishing me to keep my eyes closed. I hear you settle next to me, and tell me to open my eyes.

I look at the table, seeing a masterpiece of chocolate and strawberries before me, resting between two delicately lit candles. I see the good china plates and beautiful blue linen napkins. It takes me a minute to notice that something on my napkin catches the candlelight.

_Olivia_

I watch you take in the table, licking your lips at the dish I've made from two of your favorite things. You gaze at the candles, and smile at the sight of your favorite china. And then you see the napkin. I watch you look once, then back as one eyebrow lifts ever so slightly. The candlelight catches the beautiful silver ring and I can see the reflection of it in your eyes. I watch confusion, and then understanding pass across your face, and see your eyes well with tears.

I move from my seat and kneel next to, using one hand to draw yours away from the napkin, as I use the other to release the little white bow.

_Alex_

For a minute, I don't understand. I can't figure out why there's something tied to my napkin and not yours. And then I realize what it is that's tied to that tiny white bow. I reach out my hands, touching the blue linen with my fingertips for a moment before you draw them down, and towards your now kneeling form. When did you kneel? Your left hand moves to the beautiful ring, and I stare down at your face, golden in the flickering candles, staring at me with those incredible chocolate eyes. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes even before you speak.

_Olivia_

"Alex. This morning, I was trying to remember when it was exactly that I fell in love with you. And I couldn't. I think maybe it's because I… I've waited for you my whole life." This sounded much better in my head, and I can't keep the sudden flush of nerves from my voice. I continue anyway.

"You have put up with so much being with me. My past, my drinking, my cruelty. For some reason you kept coming back to me, and I have to take that as a sign that you've felt the same way that I have.

"Before you left work for this little vacation, I called your mother. I told her that I was going to propose to you, that I wanted her to know my intentions. As you can imagine she was… less than supportive. But Alex, that call was mostly courtesy. I don't care what your mother thinks of me, or us. I'm sorry she doesn't approve of the person you've become, and I want a chance to spend every day proving that she's wrong. I want a chance to spend every day proving how real this is. I'm tired of waking up without you."

_Alex_

By the time you get to being tired of waking up without me, I'm crying outright. Your hands are shaking almost imperceptibly, and their movement lets the candlelight catch and play on the silver ring. I hold my breath, waiting for the question I know is coming.

"Alexandra Cabot, will you marry me?"

Even knowing this was coming, I'm speechless. All I can do is nod as you guide the ring up my finger, leaning to kiss my knuckle, and I feel tears drop onto my hand from your eyes.

_Olivia_

I was hoping to avoid crying as I did this, but I can't help the tears that spill as I see you nod at me, unable to find the words to respond. I take your hand and lift it between us so you can see the small diamond set in platinum. You divide your gaze between the ring on your finger, and my own face as I pull the second velvet box from my pocket.

I take your right hand and press the box into it, nodding at you to open it.

There's a delicious sparkle in your eyes as you see a matching ring inside. Pulling it out you set the box inside, and you take my left hand, moving in to kiss me as I feel the cool metal slide over my knuckle. Without pulling away from your kiss I remember the one thing I forgot to say during my proposal speech.

My "I love you" is a whisper against your lips as we stand together, sealing our new fate with the press of lips and tongues, and the feeling of our bodies wrapped together in the flickering candlelight, your ring a beautiful cool line across my cheek as your left hand frames my face.


	13. Mother

**Chapter Thirteen: Mother**

_Alex_

Now I understand why you've seemed so nervous these last few days. Watching you sleep next to me, your left hand with its ringed finger cushioning your face, lying between your cheek and pillow. I trace the line of the band, smiling to myself again. I look at my own ring, studying the small oval diamond at its center. It's an incredible ring, delicate without looking fragile. You've blended our styles perfectly, finding one ring that compliments us both. You shift in your sleep, and I watch a smile flicker across your lips. For once I know your dreams are pleasant, filled with thoughts of me of us.

Every few minutes I see you looking up at me again, kneeling in front of me at the table, your eyes shining from held-back tears, a nervously expectant smile on your face. You've never looked so beautiful and it took my breath away, stole my words. All I could do was nod my head like an idiot, crying like a baby. I had no idea you were thinking of this, no idea you were ready. You've been begging me for months to come back, to come home. I assumed it was because you just missed having me around, not because you were wanting something permanent. I know better now. I know we said we'd wait and tell people tomorrow, but I can't help slipping from the bed at 4am to make two phone calls. I can't sleep anyway, I'm too happy.

"The only person I want to talk to at 7am is my girlfriend, if this isn't Casey, consider yourself sued."

"I miss you too, Serena."

"Alex? Hey! How are you? Isn't it like… 4am there? Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Something wrong?" Serena's voice fills with concern.

"Quite the opposite actually. That's why I'm calling. Liv will kill me later, but I have to tell someone."

Our ever-sharp friend steals the joy of surprise from me, "Don't tell me that woman finally proposed!"

"Damn you Serena! Yes she did, last night."

"That's incredible. Congratulations Lex. You must be beside yourself."

"Pretty much. It was amazing Rena, it was this perfect proposal, I don't know how my tough cop came up with all of it on her own."

"Well, Casey helped a little apparently."

"What?"

"Liv came by her office before she left asking her to teach her how to tie bows or something like that. She wouldn't say for what. Casey had a pretty decent laugh later about how red Olivia's face was by the time she left. We both figured it was for something special, but I didn't expect it to be this."

"Yeah, well neither did I. Of course now I have all these logistics to sort through, I'll have to get hopping on finding a job, and we'll have to sort out the living arrangement, and wedding arrangements, and of course we'll have to find someplace where we won't go to jail for doing it. And then there's my mother…"

"Lex… Alex…. ALEXANDRA!" Serena interrupts my sudden tirade.

"What? Sorry, I was so caught up earlier that I didn't really stop to think about all the plans and such."

"Well at least you won't have to worry about the job."

What? This is new. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't Olivia tell you? Casey put in her notice. I got a job in D.C. and she's coming with me. We're moving to Washington together. Elliot said he told Olivia before thanksgiving, didn't she mention it?"

For the second time in 12 hours I'm speechless.

"You're first on Branch's list of replacements. Casey said he's going to call you Monday afternoon to set up all the necessary re-interviews and paperwork etc."

"Serena, if I find out that you're pulling my leg, I'm going to have you killed."

"Wow, you and Liv really are perfect for each other. From what I hear, she said almost exactly the same thing to Elliot."

I can't help chuckling. My chuckle turns into a yawn, as I start to say goodbye to my friend, "thanks for the heads up Rena. And can you ask Casey to sound surprised about the engagement when she hears it through the grapevine? Liv'll kill me if she finds out I started calling people."

Serena laughs out loud, "Well we wouldn't want that would we? Although I'm tempted to have your girlfriend … I'm sorry, fiancée… bumped. You do realize this means Casey's going to have wedding bells ringing in her head?"

"Sorry Rena, not my fault. Your issues with permanence are between you and that girlfriend of yours. But I've gotta get going, I still have one more call to make."

"Uhoh, somebody's gonna get in trouble." Serena's voice is sing-song, teasing.

"Not for this one. Even if she does find out, I think she'll understand."

"Who're you going to call?"

"My mom."

Serena doesn't need me to explain, she's all too familiar with my mother and her judgments. She wishes me luck, and we hang up. I pause for a minute before dialing the Cabot house. I need some time to gather my nerves, to get ready for this. I'm already sure it's going to be the last time I talk to her. I've been putting it off ever since I realized who I am. But with this ring on my finger, I can't hide from her anymore, and I can't afford to be subject to her judgments.

_Olivia_

I reach for you in my sleep, and the emptiness of your side of the bed wakes me from my dreams. I hear you talking in the other room, and I can't suppress a grin knowing you couldn't wait to call Serena. I had hoped we'd take turns making calls in the morning, but I'm too happy to bust you. I hear you hang up the phone and I pull down the covers to make it easier for you to crawl back in. When you don't reappear right away, I slip out of bed and into a robe. Before I get to the living room, I overhear the beginning of your second call.

"Mom… it's Alex."

"Mother, please don't hang up."

The pain in your voice is almost tactile, and I debate leaving you to do this in private until the moonlight in the window catches the silver in my ring. I walk quietly out and sit next to you on the sofa, taking your hand and pulling you to me.

"Mom, please. I just… I want to talk to you. I have some things I need to tell you. Just hear me out. When I'm done you can…you can wash your hands of me if you like. But let me talk to you first. Please."

When she doesn't hang up, you take a deep breath and squeeze my hand.

"Last night, Olivia proposed to me, she had rings, and dessert, and candlelight, and a romantic speech and everything. And momma, I accepted." The way you say it, "momma" like a little girl, still desperate for her approval… I'm afraid of how this is going to end for you, and I watch your face, the memory of your day in court this past February tickling the back of my mind.

You're still silent, and your mother must be lecturing, I watch your eyes well up with tears, and I wish I knew what she was telling you.

_Alex_

"Last night, Olivia proposed to me and she had rings, and dessert, and candlelight, and a romantic speech and everything. And momma, I accepted."

"Alexandra!" Her voice is ripe with disgust, and I can't help the tears that threaten to overflow as she continues. "Stop this nonsense immediately. I cannot believe that you hold so deep a resentment towards me that you would stoop to such ridiculous measures to cause me injury. What on earth did I do to you that has warranted such a scandal at my expense?

"Do you have any idea what people will say? No, Alexandra, this is absolutely unacceptable. I have indulged your little fantasy long enough. I demand that you return home at once."

Her anger seeps through the line, and you squeeze my hand as my tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I struggle to keep my voice calm, not wanting her to hear the pain behind my courage.

"Mother, I already am home. Olivia is my home."

"Alex, please." The change in her tone is sudden, and the softness catches me off guard. "My girl, please. Don't do this. I know we've had our… disagreements, but it's nothing we can't mend if you just come home. Come home, we'll… we'll find a good doctor, a good therapist. Surely there are people who can help with this … sort of thing. We'll hire the best in the country. She's… she's had an undue influence you, used your friendship to turn you into someone your not. We can fix this. We can fix you."

Suddenly I'm no longer moved. Suddenly I'm no longer pained. Suddenly I no longer care. I **know** who I am, and I don't need to be fixed… least of all by her.

"Mother, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you can't accept the person I've become." I stare at you beside me on the couch, barely blinking, not wanting to break the contact of our gaze. "I am in love with Olivia, I love her, and I'm in love with her and I'm going to marry her. And quite frankly mother, I don't give a damn what you or any of your society friends think about it." The look on your face changes from concern to pride, and you glow as I continue,

"I'm done Mother. You won't hear from me again. I'm done. I don't need you anymore mother. I have my own family now, and it doesn't include you or your prejudice, or your judgments or your conditions."

"Alexandra, don't do this."

"If you change your mind someday, and please don't expect me to hold my breath, but if you do change your mind, I'll make sure Trevor has all of my contact information."

"Alexandra…"

"Goodbye, Mother." I hesitate, but decide to add one more thing, "I love you."

I hang up before she has a chance to respond.

_Olivia_

I don't think I've ever been prouder of you. I watched your face change as you spoke to your mother, anxiety giving way to pain, giving way to anger, giving way to peace. When you finally said goodbye I wonder if she heard the finality in your voice that I did. Your tears are dry, and your eyes are shining. I gather you up in my arms and feel you clutching me. As strong as you suddenly feel in my arms, I can sense your exhaustion too, and I have the sneaking suspicion that you've been up all night.

"Lets go back to bed, you have to sleep."

"How do you know I didn't?"

"See this?" I point to your ring, then to mine, "it means I know."

You roll your eyes, grinning as you lead me back into the bedroom. We crawl into bed and you pull the covers so that they rest heavy on my side. I can't help but smile, you try so hard to make sure I stay covered all night now. I still wake up some mornings shivering to see you tucked deep into the covers, but it doesn't happen as often.

"So what did she have to say?"

You sigh, and I can tell that you do feel sad, deep down. "About what you'd expect. She wanted me to come home so she could find a doctor to 'fix' me. She said she thought you'd had 'undue influence' over me, that you'd used our friendship to try and make me into something I wasn't."

"How do you feel about it?"

"About what?"

"About what she said, do you… do you think I 'influenced' you?" It's a question I've asked myself before. When we met, I was sure you were straight. And on our first date you were so nervous, looking around to see who was looking at us. The first time we talked about being together, you told me you'd never been with a woman. I've wondered on more than one occasion if I made you this way.

The look on your face changes my mind. "Olivia, are you serious? Baby you didn't make me do anything. You didn't 'turn' me gay. It wasn't contagious. I had these feelings long before I met you. There just wasn't anyone worth admitting them for until you."

"Really?" This is something we've never actually talked about. You know about my history, about my denials, my one-night stands. But I've never thought to ask about you about discovering yourself. "When did you know?"

"What, that I'm gay? I don't know really. I think part of me always knew. You're the first person I told though. Once, in law school I was studying in the main university library, working on a hypothetical case that had a lot of psychological lingo to it. I went to the uni library to do some research and one of the research assistants on staff starting hitting on me. She invited me out for coffee, and we went to dinner a couple of times. One day, she told me she was gay, that she thought I was beautiful, that she wanted to date me. There was this big part of me that went, 'YES' even as I told her that wasn't who I was. I kept apologizing, telling her 'I'm not like that.' She never spoke to me again. But I spent a lot of time after that thinking about why she would have assumed I felt the same way. Why she would think I was that kind of person.

"It took me a while to understand that she thought it because I **was** that kind of person. She saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself. I didn't ever have the opportunity to date a woman again. Not until you. And until you, I didn't really care anyway.

"I was always gay Livvy, it just wasn't worth it until there was you."

You kiss me in our bed, and for the first time in our relationship I feel secure, even way deep down where I've always doubted us. For some reason it was important to me, that I didn't change you. I needed to know it wasn't my fault.


	14. Fiancee

**Chapter Fourteen: Fiancée**

_Alex_

At the sight of sun streaming in the window I wake to see you watching me, your fingers playing with the ring on my left hand.

"Have you been awake long?"

"Not really. Just enjoying the moment. Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?"

Actually you haven't. But it's one of those things I can always read in your eyes. I shake my head and you kiss me,

"Well I am. Now that you've had some sleep, how do you feel about the whole mom thing?"

I sigh, and look first at my ring and then at you.

"I feel like it was the right decision. I know it was. I thought it would tear me up, rip me up to leave her behind this way, but really Liv it just sort of feels… free."

You kiss my nose and I can't help giggling. "Who'd have thought all I had to do was tell my mom to hit the road. I'm still sorry she doesn't see though."

"See what?"

"See you. See you the way that I do."

"If she saw me the way that you do, we'd need a hell of a lot of therapy"

I forget that you're incapable of being serious in the morning.

"Well, and I'd also have to kill her. Do you really want to arrest me for matricide? I'm not sharing you with anyone! Least of all my mother. And ew for making me even think about it."

Now you're giggling. And then you're leaning towards me. And now I feel your hands wrapping around me. And for the first time since we've put the rings on our fingers, your tongue slides between my lips, and I feel warmth pooling between my legs as you move to free me from my clothes.

_Olivia_

I can't help it. You're so cute when you're pretending to be indignant. And after all, I haven't made love to my fiancée yet. We've been engaged for hours now! I don't have to see your 'southern side' to know how wet you are. These days I can read it in your eyes first. Even so, I tuck my hand between your legs after I get you out of your nightwear, and I let my own arousal dawn as I feel how wet you are from my kiss. I tease you gently, sliding a finger up your slit, and tracing a circle around your clit, almost touching you, but not quite as I feel your tongue swirl around with mine in your mouth.

I break our kiss and as I kiss my way down the nape of your neck and across your collarbone I can't help but tell you, "I could get used to this."

"I'd say you already are detective."

"This is mine…" I kiss your collarbone,

"And this is mine…" the hollow of your shoulder,

"And this is mine…" the tip of your chin,

"And this is mine…" the dimple on your cheek

"And this, especially is mine…" Your tongue finds mine again and you reach for the hem of my shirt. You break our kiss to lift it over my head, then tug away my sweatpants and panties. Both naked, our bodies heat each other, and I can feel your nipples coming to attention against my skin, and I move to continue my claims.

"And these… these are definitely mine…" I take turns kissing your breasts, suckling gently at your nipples, using my tongue to roll them softly in my mouth, listening to you moan under me. I shift my body so that my knee rests up against the source of your heat, feeling you shudder in response. I bring my mouth back up to you, "that's mine too… but we'll get to that later on."

I take your hand in mine, and guide you down to feel my own wetness, I dip one of your fingers beyond my folds, not letting you enter me, just wanting you to feel what you do to me. When I feel your finger slick with me, I draw your hand back up between us, and I watch your eyes turn glassy as I lick my own juices from your finger, drawing you into my mouth and slowly pulling it back out, licking it clean.

"Olivia…" your voice is a whisper, strained from desire and I kiss my name from your lips, drawing your tongue into my mouth, letting you taste me on my own tongue. You moan against me again as I shift my knee between your legs ever so slightly, feeling you shudder again in response. You squirm, trying to get relief from the knee that's pointed at the v between your legs. I wag my finger at you,

"Not yet… I told you. I'm saving it for later."

"Please…"

I love this. Now I understand why you always enjoy teasing me. It's hard for me to draw it out, hard for me to delay the flavor of you on my tongue, the feel of you against my lips, but I can't stop this delicious torment, this terrible anticipation. Watching you writhe below me turns up the strength of my arousal, and I have to force myself to go slowly, to make you beg.

I place a kiss on your shoulder, "this is mine…"

a kiss on your upper arm, "this is mine…"

the crook of your elbow, "this is mine…"

your wrist, "this is mine…"

I drag my lips up into your palm, tasting the sweat of your excitement… "this is mine…"

With your hand at my face you pull my chin back to yours, you take your other hand and speed up the game. As you engage me in a forceful kiss, you tease one finger down the length of my body, then dip into me without warning, making my body buck above you, my train of thought lost until you speak.

_Alex_

I've had enough of these games, enough of this waiting. I can't stand this level of desire without release. I need to hurry you along. I shift from your kiss in my palm and draw your face back to mine, making my own claim to your mouth, your tongue. While you're distracted I trace a finger down your body, leaving goosebumps in my wake until I pull away breaking contact completely and then dip my finger into you, passing your folds, feeling you envelop me in warmth and wetness. You didn't expect this and your body bucks at my touch, at my suddenness. It's time to make some claims of my own.

"All of those things may be yours detective, but this" I thrust into you deeper and nearly take myself over the edge at your moan, "**this** is mine." I feel your body sag into me, and I use your surprise against you, flipping you in the bed so that I lie above you, watching _you_ squirm for a change. I turn, never stopping my pushing into you. When I'm in the right spot, I dip on my knees, giving you perfect access to something that is only "yours." I try not to moan as you finally bring your mouth to me, try not to quiver at the feel of your tongue pushing beyond my sensitive lips, try not to buck as your thumb finds my clit, but you've made me wait so long… too long, and my body reacts anyway. It's all I can do to hold myself above you, not wanting to stop attending to you, but finding it hard to concentrate as I'm suckled by my fiancée. The sight of you wiggling below me brings me back to the task at hand, and I lower my mouth to you, kissing my way down your shaven skin, kissing my way beyond your opening, dipping my tongue into you, stretching as far as I can, lapping you into my mouth, feeling my body respond to that cinnamon taste of you as much as to your own tongue inside of me.

_Olivia_

I feel your body contract, know that you're on the edge, but I want to watch you as I bring you over, I want to see your eyes go far away, see your breath quicken towards release. I pull my mouth away from you, take away my fingers.

"Alex, turn around."

I feel you shake my head, your hair brushing back and forth across my thighs.

"Turn around."

You pause, then resume and I almost lose my resolve as you quicken and deepen the stroke of your tongue.

"Please… I need to see you. I need to see your face."

You stop, and place an almost chaste kiss against me before twirling impossibly above me, stopping so that we're nose to nose, and I'm staring at those incredible crystal eyes. I quickly place my hand back between your legs, as you enter me again with your fingers. I watch your eyes darken, then flash as I sense you pulling me inside of you, your walls caving around my hand. I watch you struggle to stay propped above me, finally giving up and sinking into me, still staring me straight in the eye, watching me watch you. I feel my own body clutching at your hand, your fingers. The touch of your thumb on my clit is electric and I can't stop the waves that overtake me, making me pause my own hand as your eyes spark with accomplishment, loving that you've made me come first.

I don't let you enjoy your achievement for long, and I feel you buck against my hand, your wetness spreading, dripping against me, around me. I crook my finger inside of you, and find that spot… my spot, "mine." You collapse in my arms, your body limp but shaking as I break our eye contact to kiss you, playing lazily with your tongue as I cup your breast with my hand, stroking you gently with my thumb. As we break our kiss you settle more comfortably against my body in the bed and I draw the covers over us, the sweat on our skin suddenly chilled by the morning.

"What was that?" I stroke absently at your hair, your head resting up on shoulder.

"That… that was yours."


	15. Mine

**Chapter Fifteen: Mine**

_Alex_

I wake up hours later, not sure how long we've slept after collapsing into each other's arms, breathless and happy. Your side of the bed is empty and I can hear you roaming around the house, trying to be quiet as you place a pan on the stove. I grin, knowing you're making my favorite post-coital breakfast. I stare at my ring in the sunlight that glows through the curtain's filter. Was I ever happy before? Was I ever content? I can't remember living without you for two years. It's going to be so hard to let you go back on Monday… harder than I expected. The sound of eggs cracking makes me think of all those days in our first year living together, waking up to you in my kitchen. In spite of all of our arguments, and mistakes, I still think we were better together than apart.

I look from my ring and back to my bedroom, the government's bedroom. Or rather, it used to be the government's bedroom. Now it's mine, for the moment. Ours. I thought, a few months ago, that it would be hard to leave this place. That I'd finally gotten attached. I was having trouble with the idea of leaving here, of returning to the bustle of New York. What changed? I was tying to find a way to tell you I might stay, or that I was at the very least postponing my return. And then there was you.

Seems like that happens a lot in my life. Ever since that first day, that first look. I saw you with your messy short-cropped hair, that leather jacket… the way your gun hung on your hip. Everything about you resonated with me. You were so angry with me at first, I know I drove you all crazy. But despite your frustrations, we usually worked together well. I admired your drive, your dedication. I loved to watch you with children. There's something so natural about you when you're dealing with a kid. The first time I saw you questioning a child I couldn't help thinking you'd make an amazing mother.

I'll never forget telling my mother about you. I'd only been SVU for about a month and she called to see how I liked the new job. Wanted me to know Uncle Bill had called to say I'd already called in a favor. I told her about everyone's resistance, how I was hoping my record would speak for me, that they'd realize I was on their side. Then I told her about you, couldn't stop talking about you. I told her about watching you with a kid. Watching you bend down, get on her level. The way you talked to her.

"She's amazing mom. She goes from tough cop to maternal in less than a second, and you can't help responding to her."

"It's a shame she's a lesbian then I suppose."

"What? How the hell would you know that?"

"Language, Alexandra. And as far as my sources, I do know a **few** people connected to your particular… squad of detectives."

As usual, she left me speechless. I should have learned by then not to underestimate the reach of mother's 'contacts.' I know better now. Just because I've stopped speaking with her doesn't mean she won't have access to check up on me when I get back. I've given up trying to figure out who around me will be reporting back to her.

The smell of eggs cooking breaks into my memories, and I put thoughts of my mother and her pack of spies behind me, grabbing a robe to cover my nakedness, then walking sleepily into the kitchen to wrap my arms around your waist as you place our plates on the table. I take a moment to peek at the steaming plates before kissing your neck from behind you. Just as I suspected, mushroom and sausage omelets.

_Olivia_

Mmmm. I love the feel of your arms around me as you sneak up on me from behind. I can't see your face but I know you're smiling as you kiss the hollow of my neck. I've made your favorite breakfast, even though it's after two. I didn't bother waking you when I got up to shower. My legs are still weak from earlier and I didn't think I could handle a shower session after this morning's activities. I turn in your arms, meeting those unbelievable blue eyes. This morning echoes in my mind, and I almost whisper again, 'mine.'

"Good morning sleepyhead." I keep my possessive notions to myself for now.

"What time is it?"

"About ten after two. I think I wore you out."

"Well it wasn't all you, I mean I hadn't slept either. Don't let it go to your head.'

I choose to ignore you, preferring to believe amazing things about my abilities, confirmed by the way your body squirms in my robe as I pull you into a deep kiss.

"Breakfast is served m'dear."

You pull away and sit before your plate. I delay my own eating to watch you take your first bite. I love watching you eat, especially when I've cooked for you. You're such an expressive diner. Knowing you as I do, I never figured out how you could work all day without stopping to eat. I still don't understand how you can get through the day on a vending machine sandwich, or a sidewalk stand salad. Someone like you should have gourmet for every meal.

I watch you roll your first bite in your mouth, your eyes closing as you breathe in the scent of mushrooms, and spicy sausage. You pause, relishing the mix of spice and flavor, and fluff of egg before moaning around your mouthful. A smile plays on your lips and for the millionth time since yesterday I think about how I could get used to this. Did anything in my life ever feel right before? Was I ever complete before you? You open your eyes and look at me quizzically.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"I was just watching you."

You blush, and once again I'm awed by your beauty. How can you be so confident and so shy at the same time? It's one of the many paradoxes that I find so attractive in you.

"Are you going to eat or stare at me?"

"Can't I do both?" You roll your eyes at me and go back to your omlette. I don't comment on the half smile that's sneaking across your face. You pretend to be annoyed, but I can see through that. I give in, and eat my breakfast, my heart full of this moment together.

When we're done we wash the dishes together, falling into our old apartment habit. We ignore the dishwasher and instead you dry as I wash. We relish the small touches as I hand you a plate, the flutter of our fingers together as you take the pan. These little domesticities are comforting, like a return to our first times together, our old routines made delicate with our new relationship, and without the tension of our former troubles. I put off thoughts of returning on Monday without you, choosing instead to turn to you as you put away the last dish, watching as you stretch to place the last cup in its place. I watch in appreciation at the shadows cast by the bands of sunlight across your body. Your robe is thin, almost sheer, and I can't help being moved by the beauty of your curves, muted by the almost translucent fabric. Despite my earlier resolve, the word flashes again through my head,

Mine.

_Alex_

I can feel you watching me as I put away the last of our dishes. What is it about the knowledge of your gaze that makes me shy, even after all these years? I start wishing I'd grabbed your big terry robe instead of this flimsy one. I can feel your eyes traveling up my legs, over my hips, watching as I stretch to put the last glass on the top shelf. I flush as I turn to confront your eyes.

"Did you enjoy the view?"

You don't respond, choosing instead to tuck one hand inside the sheer fabric of my robe, and trace the line of my body, shoulder to hip. I can't help shivering at this tenderness, and I feel again as I did this morning, as though I'm being claimed, and even though you remain silent as you kiss me possessively, the word hangs in the air between us.

Mine.

I should be upset, should rebel against your need to exert your custody of me, of my heart. But for some reason I enjoy the feeling of belonging to you. My independent nature should rise in anger at the thought of being possessed, of being owned. But instead I look at you and mirror your emotion. Looking at you, watching you run a hand through your hair, watching the sun glaze your pale brown skin. My mind echoes you…

Mine.

_Olivia_

How long have we been standing here, staring at each other? Seconds… minutes… hours? Looking at the clock confirms its been only a few minutes, but somehow I feel as though we've held this pose for days, finding something in each other that requires study, examination. What is it about the rings on our fingers that's given us such a desire for review? Maybe it's the knowledge that we're standing on the edge of the future, looking ahead makes us want to look behind. We've never had that before. There was always a tension beneath our relationship, something leading to an ending. We've never had this sense of things to come before.

One of us has to break this silence, get our bodies moving again, our lives moving again. We can't spend our life in this kitchen, watching each other watch each other.

I clear my throat, not sure why I'm suddenly so unnerved by this moment.

"I thought maybe we could go into Portland, do some shopping? Maybe start picking up some magazines and such."

The sound of my voice in the silence seems to resonate as oddly with you as it did with me, and I've woken us both back to the sounds of the house, the sounds of the world that's been moving around our stasis.

"Ok. I need to get dressed, and probably a shower. Care to join me?"

I shake my head, almost afraid of getting caught up in another of these moments.

"I'll start making some of those phone calls. At least Elliot. I'll wait for you before I call Cap."

I watch you walk towards the bedroom, and find myself right back where I started. In awe of the feeling of being loved by you.


	16. Making Plans

**Chapter Sixteen: Making Plans**

_Alex_

By the time I've finished my shower, you and Elliot are laughing it up over the phone. If I wasn't privy to your particular proclivities, I'd almost be jealous of your friendship with your partner. Fortunately I know both of you well enough to see the beauty in your friendship. I stand at the edge of the hallway for a moment, watching as you throw back your head and laugh, amazed as I often am to have you in my life this way. You catch my eye and gesture me to your side. As I dip to kiss your cheek you move the phone so I can hear Elliot's congratulations.

"It's about time Alex made an honest woman out of you. She's certainly got her work cut out for her."

I grin, and add my two cents as a hello, "I couldn't agree more Elliot. Don't forget now, when I get back I want a full report on her activities from you. I'll expect it written and signed in triplicate on my desk my first day back."

Elliot laughs, and I'm glad to hear him sounding happier than when last I saw him. You tell me later that he and Kathy have finally reached a custody agreement that, while not perfect, is as close as it can get for both of them, and for the kids. I head to the kitchen to grab my travel mug full of fresh-brewed coffee as you say goodbye to Elliot.

"What's next babe? More calls or shall we head out?"

"Grab the extension, Elliot said Don's at the house today with Munch and Fin, evidently they caught a case that requires some Saturday paperwork. He thinks they'll be glad for the distraction."

I pop back into the bedroom to grab the second portable, and join you back in the living room, sitting in the overstuffed armchair across from where you're settled in the sofa.

"Don? It's Olivia."

"And Alex!"

"Aha… and how are my favorite detective and ADA?"

"Aww Don, I knew you liked me."

"Alex, you annoy the hell out of me, but at least you know how to fight a motion to suppress."

"Problems Captain?"

"Nothing new Olivia, just the same old arguments with Novak, and the same old evidence hunt as usual. What's the news in Oregon?"

"Well that's why we called Don, we wanted you guys to hear it from us first."

"Don't tell me Alex is finally making an honest woman out of you?"

You shoot me a look and I know what's going to come out next.

"Why does **everyone** keep saying that?"

Don laughs and I can't resist a bit of a giggle myself.

"Because quite frankly we've all been waiting for somebody to tie you down for years. Couldn't happen to a better woman. And Alex, I hear you'll be back on the job come the New Year?"

"That's the rumor. Casey's going to D.C. and evidently I'm on Branch's short list for replacing her. The current guess is I'll be back and settled by February first."

"Glad to hear it. It'll be nice to feel like the DA's office is on our side again. And Olivia, you have a stack of paperwork waiting for you when you get back so I expect you at your desk 8am Tuesday morning. I don't care what time your flight gets in."

We both smile, knowing Don is trying to sound tougher than he feels.

"Yes sir, 10am Tuesday morning."

"That's 8am Detective, and not a minute later! Now go celebrate."

We hang up and share a warm laugh. "You think he'd walk me down the aisle?"

"Hey, who says _you_ get to walk down the aisle?" You feign insult.

"You want to wear a frilly white dress and high-heeled strappy sandals?"

"Right. We'll ask Don to walk you down the aisle. Elliot can stand with me at the alter and be my best man. You ready to go?"

"With you? Anytime, anywhere!"

_Olivia_

How did I get so lucky? There are hundreds of SVU's in this country, thousands of ADA's, millions of PD's. I ended up with the guys, you, and Don. I can't help but feel that maybe I'm finally seeing the good side of this whole Karma thing. Maybe all those times I cried myself to sleep, all those times I cleaned up after mom passed out on the couch, all those times I woke up next to some random stranger hoping to find … I don't know what-- maybe all those times earned me this. You used to tell me that some people have to go through the fires of hell to get to the gateway to heaven. Maybe my fires are over now. I can only hope.

We head out in the car towards Portland, and I'm finally starting to get the hang of this whole backwoods to big city transition. Still, I'll be glad to get back to the city-- gladder still when you're back too and we can put this whole lousy separation behind us.

We've decided on dinner at Swagat's but they don't open till five and so we have an hour before we can even head over. We decide to hit Powell's first, you want to pick up some wedding magazines, and I promised Elliot I'd pick up a book for Maureen. Something for her psych class that she hasn't been able to find. I head to the psychology room, and you hit the periodicals, and we agree to meet in languages in twenty minutes. By the time you show up your arms are full of magazines, and three books besides. I can't help raising my eyebrows as you struggle to gain control of your pile.

"What's all this?"

"Well, this one had great flowers, and this one had the most beautiful dresses, and I stopped by the LBG section and found a couple things about gay/lesbian weddings that I thought we could use."

I don't know what it is about the last book that makes my face fall.

"What is it? What's wrong? What's that look?"

I shake my head, "nothing."

"No, it's not nothing, what is it?"

I take the last book from your hands and flip through the pages. I don't know what look is on my face but clearly you've figured me out. I glance up to see you scowling.

"We're not seriously going to do this again are we?"

_Alex_

Why do you do this to me? Things are going so well, amazingly, unbelievably well. And now this… again!

"We're not seriously going to do this again are we?"

"Alex, it's not that it's just…"

"Yes it is. Are you still freaking out about a stupid three letter word?"

"It's not stupid Alex, it's powerful. Remember Sophie?"

"Remember Julie? Sophie was afraid Liv, she wasn't like you. And look at Julie. Didn't you say she called last week to say she'd met someone new? She's moving on with her life. Being gay didn't kill her. And quite frankly it didn't kill Sophie either. And it's sure as hell not going to kill you."

Our voices are raised, and we're starting to draw the gaze of other customers.

"Look, let's get out of here… I want to buy these things but then I think we need to talk."

You nod, and let me pull you to the register. We leave the store and stop to put my books in the car before heading towards the waterfront. We walk in silence, and I'm still angry, though softened when you take my hand in yours. Somehow we both gravitate towards the same bench, facing the waterway… watching the Willamette flow by, not looking at each other. We should have had this discussion a long time ago. I guess I just assumed that when you finally told Don about us your reservations had finally disappeared.

"Talk to me Liv. You know how I feel, and I thought I knew how you felt. I thought we agreed the word didn't matter."

You stare at the water and I wait, knowing you're gathering your thoughts before you speak. Just when I'm about to give up and fill this silence you find your voice.

"It's just that word. Gay. It's just so… definitive."

I tilt my head, not sure I understand what you're getting at.

"People use it so … I don't know, like it's an end-all, be-all kind of word. Like it defines a person. Gay."

"We use words to define ourselves all the time. People call you a cop. People call me a lawyer. These are words that add to the definition of who we are."

"But its not everything that we are. People don't look at you and think lawyer. That's it the end. They look at you and they see a woman, a blond, a lawyer, a Harvard grad, a person. I'm a cop but it doesn't define **me**."

Suddenly I get it.

_Olivia_

I finally look at you, look into those eyes and watch as the blue becomes clearer, crystal as you finally understand. It's not that I don't identify. I know I'm gay. I get that. The very fact that I love you makes it true. But I don't want that to define me. I don't want it to be the first thing people think when they see me.

"You're afraid it's going to be the first thing people think. That it's going to rule out everything else. That you'll be the gay cop, the gay woman, the gay detective."

I nod. But I can't speak, can't find a way to be eloquent about this. You're always better with words than I am. I keep hoping you'll jump in again, finish my thought for me, but you're quiet. Your head is turned away from me again, staring at the gray-blue water. We sit this way for awhile, until I take your hand again, hoping I'll encourage you to break this silence. You look at the river and squeeze my hand. We sit together side by side, one leg tucked under my body so I'm facing you, watching your face for some clue as to what's going on in your head. Our rings shine in the spotty sunlight that filters through breaks in the thick gray soup of clouds above us. The stillness of this day falls over us, and we get lost in our thoughts, unable to find the words to explain ourselves.


	17. Definition

**Chapter Seventeen: Definition**

_Alex_

I've lost track of how long we've been sitting here. We've watched the sun begin to set, watching the black rise over the river to the east. I know it's after five, and we should be getting to the restaurant before they get crowded. I can feel your eyes watching me in the growing darkness.

"We should go back to the car, Swagat is going to get busy quickly."

Your eyes don't leave my face as you respond, "Let's just catch a cab. We can get them to take us to the restaurant, then back to the car."

I nod, knowing you're still watching. "Can we talk more at dinner?"

I can feel you tensing next to me. Why do you always think the discussion is over just because we've both run out of things to say? Just because we run out of words doesn't mean it's resolved anything. I turn to look at you, meeting your eyes a second before you cast them down again. You nod reluctantly and I lean to kiss you, wanting you to know I'm not angry anymore. It doesn't mean I don't want to finish this, but I'm not angry. Well… not very.

I watch you in the growing shadows, your hand stuck out for a cab, and I can't help a small smile, watching the way your posture takes on that determined pose, that cop with an attitude. You are so strong, so sure of yourself. But when it comes to us you seem so small, so unsure. What is that?

We're still quiet in the cab. Why do I feel like you think it's my turn to talk? I'm not the one with the problem here. You pay the driver and take my hand as we walk into the restaurant, requesting a table in the back room, still mostly empty. We order too much food, as always, and as the waitress brings our kima nan you play with the bread, not meeting my eyes.

"Liv."

You stare at the plate in front of you.

"Olivia, talk to me."

You take a negligible bite of the lamb bread, still not meeting my eyes. What the hell is this?

"Olivia, I swear to god. I can give this ring back you know."

That does it. Your head flies up, your eyes wide with fear. It was a low blow, but I don't know how else to break whatever spell you've been under since the river.

"Lexi, no. Just… I'm just trying to find the right words."

"How about we fuck the right words and you just talk to me." I lower my voice at the word fuck, my proper breeding demanding discretion despite the empty room. "I don't care if it's not what I want to hear ok? Just talk to me."

You haven't looked away yet. That's good. We're interrupted by the appearance of our actual dinner, but I have a feeling we're going to be taking it all home with us. I watch your eyes go dark, feel myself falling into your gaze. You take a deep breath.

"All of my life I was defined by my mother's problems. I was the daughter of the drunk. And then… for awhile, **I** was the drunk. Then I came to the academy and I worked my ass off to be a cop. And for awhile I was the rookie. And then finally I was a detective and I got defined by my work, by what I did well, instead of by some label.

"I've always been gay, but it never defined me. But this… now…"

_Olivia_

I hate that look in your eyes. I don't understand why this is so important to you. Why do you suddenly want me to ascribe to some label? You've never pushed me like this before, not about this.

"All of my life I was defined by my mother's problems. I was the daughter of the drunk. And then… for a while, I was the drunk. Then I went to the academy and I worked my ass off to be a cop. And for a while I was the rookie. And then finally I was a detective and I got defined by my work, by what I did well, instead of by some label.

"I've always been gay, but it never defined me. But this… now…"

"What Olivia? This, now, what?"

I don't want to tell you this, don't want to ruin this visit, this harmony with my fears. I promised you I'd never lie, and if I tell you this… now.

You reach across the table with your hand, stretching, reaching for me. I don't reach back to hold your hand with mine. Why is this so hard? Why do we have to do this? We'd be fine if I didn't have to tell you this.

"When we get married, I can't deny it anymore. Everyone will know. Because I'll be married to you. I'll just… be gay. We'll be gay."

Oh god you're crying.

Why are you crying?

Don't cry.

"Lexi…" I glance around the restaurant, relieved that we're still relatively secluded. Our waitress begins to come over and I shake my head to discourage her.

"Lexi look, it's not you… this isn't about you."

"Yes it is Olivia." Your voice is full of venom, not just hurt… you're angry too.

"No it's not. It doesn't mean I don't want to marry you. It doesn't change the way I feel about you. I love you. I love being with you. And I know that that makes me gay. I knew I was gay a long time ago. I just… I'm not ready to --"

"To what Olivia? To have people look at you and think something that's already true? You're not gay because other people say that you are. You're gay because you love me, because I love you. How can you not see that it's not about other people? This is about us! It's always about us."

I can tell you're trying to control yourself. I hate to think what you'd be saying if we were home, away from the world. You wipe angrily at angrier tears, blushing at our public fight, our public display. I want so much to move, to go to your side of the table, to take the hand you've jerked back from beside my plate.

"Lexi…"

Your head whips up, and I flinch at the ice in your eyes. You turn and catch the eye of our waitress. I stay silent, feeling chastised as you decline boxes for our food, asking instead for the check, paying with a slash of your signature on the credit slip, and then charging away from the table, away from me-- heading outside to catch a cab back to the car. As we wait for the appearance of one of the yellows that hit this part of town during rush hour, I try again at the curb.

"Alex, please… talk to me."

_Alex_

"Alex, please… talk to me."

I can't help the sarcasm that drips from my lips as I laugh, usually the 'talk to me' vibe is my line. "Talk about what Olivia? About us? About me, about you? About this marriage?"

My voice is hard on that word. Do you understand now? Do you get why this is so important to me? I don't look at you, but I jerk my hand away as you try to clasp it in yours. Your wordless apologies aren't going to win me back this time. I need more.

"Alex… I'm sorry. You wanted honest, you got it. Isn't that worth anything? I'm not proud of it, and I told you it's something I'll deal with. It doesn't change the way I feel, and it doesn't diminish this at all. And it certainly doesn't mean I don't want to marry you."

"Yes well, it might mean **I** don't want to marry **you**." I do look at you this time, and when I see the flash of pain that crosses your eyes I wish I hadn't. Why do you always do this to me? I start out angry and always end up feeling like I should be the one apologizing.

As we step into the cab I see you swipe at your eyes, fighting tears, and I feel another twinge of guilt. I fight it, trying to keep my anger fresh, knowing it's the only way to make you understand. You keep your distance in the small backseat as we ride silently back to the car. As I drive home you stare out the passenger window, a statue for all intents and purposes… except when you lift a hand to brush a tear from your cheek, more than once. And every time I watch the shadow of your arm travel that path, I come closer and closer to dropping my own tears.

_Olivia_

Well I've done it again. Fucked everything up again. What the hell is wrong with me? Every time things are going well, every time I get my life sorted out, our life sorted out I screw it up again. I asked you to marry me, and you said yes and then I blew it all to hell again. I try to fight my tears, but my hand keeps traveling back to my cheek, wiping away traces of this fight as we drive silently in the darkness back to your home.

Inside you head to the bedroom, closing the door behind you, leaving me in the darkness of our cold living room… your cold living room. I wander back to the kitchen, opening cupboards and closing them, opening the fridge and closing it. It takes me a minute to figure out what I'm looking for. I want a drink. I grab a bottle of water, trying to pretend it's vodka, passing the weight of it from one hand to the other, carrying it with me as I sit in the living room sofa, staring at the cold black fireplace, listening to you crying in the bedroom as my own tears begin to fall. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. I'm leaving day after tomorrow and I have no idea if I'm still engaged, I have no idea if I'm even still your friend.

In the quiet of this room, your muffled sobs from behind the closed bedroom door, I speak into the rhythm of your crying,

"Jesus… what did I do?"


	18. Let Me Show You

**Chapter Eighteen: Let Me Show You**

_Alex_

I'm not sure when I feel asleep, but when I wake on Sunday morning my cheeks are stiff with dried tears, my neck sore from the angle I'd curled into my bed. I know you're still out in the living room, at least I assume you are. Around here there really isn't anywhere for you to go. If we were in New York, you'd be gone. You'd have gone back to your apartment, out to walk the city, gone into work on your day off. But here you're pretty much captive. At first I'm sorry for that, wishing to have this place to myself while I think, but then I'm glad, glad that for once you don't have the option of running away.

I walk into the adjoining bathroom and wash my face, scrubbing at the places where my salty tears stained my face, wishing I could scrub away the feeling that went with them. I know I shouldn't let this hurt me; on some level I understand that you're reluctance to be labeled _isn't_ about me. But I can't help seeing this for what it is.

You're scared. You always do this when you're scared. You find a way to make me hate you for a while, until you stop being scared. You're very good at getting me back, but the sad truth is that you're even better at pushing me away. I can't have a marriage like this, can't have a life this way. I pull your ring off my finger, setting it on the counter, staring at it in the too white light of the fluorescents. My heart aches, pains, staring at that small circle, staring at the thing I want so badly I can hardly breathe. I feel my tears threaten to begin again, and I bring the cool washcloth back to my face, holding it over my eyes, feeling drips of water drop onto my neck.

For two days I had everything I wanted. Two days. I sink to my knees, gripping the counter. Why do you do this to me? I think back over yesterday, trying to find the place where it fell apart. It seemed so simple; it was just a discussion, just a word. Why does it always come down to that word? Maybe it's my fault, maybe I should just let it go, admit that you can't embrace this the way I have. I knew, I knew years ago that this wasn't going to be something you took to easily. When I met you, everything in my life changed. I changed. For me, 'gay' was just a word. You say it's because of your profession, because of being a cop. But do people want a gay lawyer anymore than a gay cop? Look what happened to Serena.

I love you, therefore I'm gay. It's just that simple. It's not a definition, it's not a description, it's just a fucking word. The only place it means anything is between the two of us. You'd tell me that's lawyer logic, that it doesn't hold up in the world outside our bedroom, in the world outside our relationship. I don't care what people call me, I've been called far worse than gay. Why does it matter so much to you? I didn't want to start crying again, but I can't help feeling like your rejection of that word is a rejection of me, and my sobs start without my help until I'm shuddering on the bathroom floor, wondering if things will ever be the same again. I reach above me and grab at my ring, clutching it in my fist as I cry.

I almost don't hear you open the door, until I smell your scent in the air I don't know you've come to sit beside me, all of a sudden so close and at the same time further away than we've ever been.

_Olivia_

I wake early Sunday morning, starting my day with a clutch of fear as I notice the bottle in my hand. For some reason the fact that it's water doesn't comfort me. I rise from the sofa and stretch the stiffness from my muscles. Then I walk to the closed bedroom door, wanting to open it and go to you, but stopping instead and placing my hand on the door's cool white surface. I rest my forehead next to it, wanting desperately to tell you I'm sorry.

Instead I move quickly away as I hear you stirring, locking myself into the hall bathroom to wash away my own tearstains and the stiffness on my cheeks. I take off my ring and place it on the counter, washing my hands, then rubbing your strawberry lotion into my fingers and palms, bringing my hands to my face and smelling you there. I think back to yesterday, trying to see your point of view.

I keep expecting you to emerge, angry and hurt. As I open the door and move back into the kitchen I expect to see you perched at the table with your coffee cup, wanting to talk. As relieved as I am that you're not, I'm even more frightened by this lockdown, by this lock-away. I'd almost rather you were out here, yelling… crying… leaving even. But this so close so far thing is just-- it's torturous. There's part of me that wants to run from this but a larger part, the part that's twirling a small platinum ring on my finger that wants desperately to barge into the bedroom and hold you. I start to make food, but realize I'm not hungry. I still want a drink though and the thought of it makes me slam the fridge door in frustration. On the door of the fridge is a picture of us. The only decoration you keep there. I look at the walls around me, see pictures of us everywhere, pictures of me. How do you always manage to find that perfect light? I walk back into the living room and see a picture I've never noticed before, when was it taken-- in Greece? I see my image, my head thrown back in a laugh and you next to me, your arm wrapped around my waist, your head turned towards me. And that look in your eyes. That 'one and only' look. I've never noticed that before. I pull the frame off the wall and sit on the sofa, staring at your face, at the way you looked at me. I hate the old familiar feeling that washes over me. That feeling that says you were right, again.

I can hear you crying again, further away now and I can only assume you've gone into the master bathroom. For once, I'm the one that breaks the silence… I'm the one that walks back to you… I'm the one that tries to fix it-- not with flowers or candy or any of the other ridiculous ploys I've used in the past.

I walk into the bedroom, moving quietly pausing to see you sink to your knees through the open bathroom door. My heart catches in my chest, an exquisite rush of pain as I watch you collapsing, your right hand reaching upwards to grab the ring you've set on the counter. I watch your fist clench around it as you pull it to your chest, sobbing. I move timidly into the bathroom and sit next to you on the floor, our bodies matched in posture, with less than an inch between us I still am not sure you even know I'm here.

_Alex_

I don't acknowledge your presence, don't shift, don't change, don't even bother to try and stay my tears. Vindictive as it feels I want you to see this pain. I want you to know what this rejection is to me. I almost jump at your touch, and I hate that even in this anger and pain and disgust my body still reacts to your nearness.

I feel you pulling me towards you, and I want to resist, want to fight you. I want to hit you, to push you away to make you leave. I want to throw this ring back at you, to hear it hit your chest, hear it fall to the floor. Instead I let you gather me into your body and rub my back as I cry in your lap. I lose my breath, sobs wracking my body and I can't stop. Every pass of your hand across my back brings new tears and I can't stand this feeling, this loss of control over my body, over my pain. Where did this all come from?

"Alex," you whisper into my hair as I lean into you, feeling my tears pool on your shirt, on your jeans.

"Alex you were right." Your voice cracks, "It's just that I'm so afraid. I'm afraid of being stuck in a box, and you're right it does have to do with us. Everything has to do with us and I didn't get that. I still… I'm not sure I understand totally. I may not ever. But I'll try."

Your tears start to fall, joining mine as I feel my sobs starting to calm, feel my tears starting to wane.

"I'll try because I love you. Because I want this to last. Please don't let my fears stop us. I want this, I want us. Please… Lexi please."

I listen as your sobs begin, as you shake with me in your arms. Your fear is palpable, tactile. I lift myself from your lap, lift your face in my hands, forcing you to meet my eyes as your tears flow between my fingers. I kiss your forehead, then stare at you, unblinking.

"Liv, you have got to stop being afraid. I understand how you feel, I do baby," my voice cracks and my tears threaten to begin again. "But when you tell me you're afraid of someone thinking you're gay it kills me. Because it makes me feel like I'm not what you want."

"Alex--"

"No Olivia, let me finish. You are going to have to accept this part of yourself. Not for me, for you. You're gay. It doesn't define you, it's just part of who you are. You're gay. And yes, people are going to think that. And yes people are going to see that. And yes being married to me is going to mean that every once in awhile people are going to look at you and the first thing they think is going to be 'gay.' But baby, the thing you don't seem to understand is this,"

I make sure you're staring into my eyes, I need you to hear this, need you to know it, need you to feel it.

"It. Doesn't. Matter."

_Olivia_

"It. Doesn't. Matter."

I hear you say it, see your eyes sinking into mine. I try to believe you. I want to believe you. I need to believe you.

"Say it Olivia. Say the words. Say it out loud. 'I'm gay.' Maybe if you say it you'll see that it doesn't mean anything. Maybe you'll see that they're just words."

I shake my head, I've said them before… said them to you even. I don't know why I'm so hung up on this, it's not something that makes sense to me. I'm not afraid of anything, it's part of the job. But I'm petrified of three little letters and I can't explain it. You tell me you don't really understand and I want to explain it-- I do. But how can I explain something **I** don't understand either? Suddenly I feel your lips on mine, pressing against me. I didn't expect this. What's happening? I try to stifle my tears, to stop my sobs but I'm still crying as you gently shift your tongue between my lips, touching gently inside my mouth. I pull away,

"What are you doing?"

"I want you to know what that word means. What it means to me. All the beautiful things it includes. This is one of them, let me show you baby please."

You bring your hand to my face, and turn your body to face me as you grab a washcloth from above and wipe my tears, then yours… we've done this before, only the last time I think I was consoling you. You move back to my mouth, take my hand and lace our fingers together.

"This is what it means, baby." You kiss me again, pulling my body into you wrapping one hand around my back, pulling me closer and I tense, feeling trapped for a moment before giving in.

You break from me, take the hand you're holding and pull me up with you, pull me into the bedroom. I can still see you're hurt, that deep down there's part of you that's still angry and I wonder why you're doing this. You step back from me and strip off your t-shirt, pull off your sweats then reach for me, tugging away my clothes then lying on the bed and pulling me to you, drawing my body over you.

"Alex…"

"Livvy no, just let me show you. This is what it means," You cup my breast with your hand as I rest above you, almost kneeling over you. You use your hand to draw my breast to your lips, your tongue snaking out to lick my nipple, and I feel my body responding to you the way it always does, feel the goosebumps raise on my skin, feel a warmth between my legs. You draw more of my soft flesh into your mouth, suckling at me as I feel the heat spreading through my body.

"This is what it means Livvy," You move your hand away from my breast, sliding it slowly down my torso, touching my dips and curves, every inch of your palm, the tip of every finger sliding over my skin. Your hand rests at my hips as you use the other to pull me into another kiss, breathing against me…"This is what it means baby."

I let your tongue slide into my mouth, feel it slipping between my teeth and tangling with mine. I close my eyes involuntarily, getting lost in this feeling. When I feel the hand you've cupped around my face leaving, moving downwards I became aware that you're shifting me, pulling me up, towards the top of the bed and I break our kiss partly because my body is now out of position and partly because I'm surprised.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm showing you what the word means Liv. This is what it means. This, here. It means I love you, it means I want to be with you. It means I want to taste you on my lips every day for the rest of my life. That's what it means baby."

You draw my body towards you, shifting me up until I'm kneeling above you, above those lips, above that mouth, until I can feel you breathing against my slit. You've never done this before. You've always resisted this. Resisted the image of one of us kneeling above the other, I've never known why. You didn't have a problem with one of us hanging over the edge of the bed, but for some reason this proximity always made you nervous.

"What are you doing Alex?"

"I'm showing you what it means baby. Because I want you to replace the words I'm gay with I'm loved." You stop speaking, pulling me to your mouth and gently sliding your tongue up my slit, pushing deeper every second. On the third pass I feel you pass through my folds, feel you entering my body. My back arches at the slick feeling of your tongue inside of me, and I tangle my hand in your hair as you dive into me, feeling you love me in a way you've never allowed yourself before.

"Oh god Alex…" the words escape my lips without intention. I look down, below my body, past the curve of my breasts to watch you raise a hand, wrapping your arm around my leg, upwards, reaching for me. I clasp your hand with my own as you add the fingers of your other hand to the stroke of your tongue. I grip your hand as I feel my body contracting, and as much as I want to watch your eyes staring up at me my neck arches against my will, my body reacting without my help as you bring me over the edge.

Later, as we lie together… after I've given up trying to return the favor you ask me if I understand now, if I can see that they're more than words, and less than words. If I see why it's so important to me, if I see what it means to you.

I nod against your shoulder, "It means you love me."

In the stillness of our room I hear you sigh, "finally."


	19. Reciprocation

**Chapter Nineteen: Reciprocation**

_Alex_

I'm exhausted, emotionally and physically but I still can't sleep. You're passed out on the bed next to me, and I can't help being jealous of the peace you seem to have found. I stare at your face, bringing my hand up to brush the corner of your lips that's turned into an almost smile. Hours after I've done the one thing I'd never let you do I finally believe you get it. I think you finally understand that to me being gay just means I'm loved by you in a way no one else can. Maybe now we can stop having this argument over and over again ad naseum. I'd love it if we could just put this whole thing to rest.

I have no delusions that you won't slip, that you won't have moments where you're worried, or yes, even a little freaked out by it. But at least maybe now you won't let it stop you from being the woman I fell in love with. I roll onto my back and let one hand rest on your pillow, feeling the softness of your hair in my palm. You sigh and turn, tucking your still sleeping body into my side, one hand falling over my naked flesh, your fingertips tickling at my side, the weight of your arm warming my stomach. I curl my arm around you, taking my hand from your pillow and using it to pull you closer. I'm all too aware that tomorrow you'll be leaving me, that I may not see you again until after Christmas and I pause my thoughts for a moment to just enjoy this feeling of your cool skin next to mine. I feel selfish, I feel like I should kidnap you, tie you down, keep you here until I can go back to New York **with** you.

You shift again, and I feel you burrowing into my body, your arm tightening around me, your chin lifting slightly, lips open in your sleep and I can't resist dipping my head to meet them. At first you don't respond, but consciousness dawns slowly and you begin to return my kiss with your own, and you open sleepy eyes to look at me with those incredible chocolate oceans. God I love you.

"mmm I love you too."

I start, not realizing I've said it aloud.

"I didn't mean to wake you up, go back to sleep."

"It's ok, I can sleep on the plane." You kiss me again, then study my face, "have you slept at all?"

I shake my head.

"Lexi, you have to sleep. Don't you have to work today? I can sleep on the plane but you have to drive into town and back and then work besides."

"I'll be fine Liv. I'd rather just lie here with you."

"Until what?"

"Until you leave."

You tap my nose playfully, "you're such a goof."

I risk an argument but I just need to be sure, "About earlier… are you sure we're--ok? I mean, I know you're **o.k.**" I roll my eyes at that lecherous grin, "but about the whole gay thing. It's important Liv. I need to feel like you understand."

You smirk a minute longer, then your eyes get deep, serious. "I get it Alex. You're going to have to be patient while I soak it in, but I do understand. And as usual, you're right, I meant that. I'll work on it. I can't promise I won't be uncomfortable with it at times, but I'm not going to flip out about it anymore ok? I promise."

I raise my eyebrows at you, wanting to believe you but not entirely convinced.

"I'll just say it over and over again until I believe it. What was it you said? 'I'm gay means I'm loved?' Sounds good to me."

I feel a smile spreading across my face, it's about damn time. I don't have much time to enjoy the thought as your hand makes a soft line down my body, moving towards my legs and my body reacts accordingly. You don't have to work hard, I'm already wet from just the thought of your intentions. You grin at me, the rest of your body still tucked into my side and you move your leg over mine, almost wrapping them together as you dip a finger inside me, stroking me softly, gently. I turn a little, giving you better access, and at the same time giving me a better position to see you while you touch me.

You tried for hours to return the favor, and this time I don't stop you… choosing instead to enjoy the sensation of your fingers inside of me, of your thumb dallying around my clit, of your mouth as you pull me into a kiss, as your draw my tongue into your mouth, pull me into you, into the place where I belong.

_Olivia_

When I feel your lips on mine I think I'm dreaming, and for a moment I am but I'm quickly pulled awake by the realization that **you're** awake, and kissing me. I'm glad you're done being angry, that we're done being upset and hurt and conflicted. I hear you whisper as I open my eyes,

"God I love you."

I grin, "mmm, I love you too."

"I didn't mean to wake you up, go back to sleep."

"It's ok, I can sleep on the plane." You haven't slept, and I can tell."Lexi, you have to sleep. Don't you have to work today? I can sleep on the plane but you have to drive into town and back and then work besides."

You tell me you want to stay with me, awake until I leave, and I can't resist a tap on your nose, "you're such a goof."

You take a deep breath, "About earlier… are you sure we're--ok? I mean, I know you're **o.k.**"

I start to tell you I'm better than ok after last night, but you roll your eyes and interrupt, "But about the whole gay thing. It's important Liv. I need to feel like you understand."

"I get it Alex. You're going to have to be patient while I soak it in, but I do understand. And as usual, you're right, I meant that. I'll work on it. I can't promise I won't be uncomfortable with it at times, but I'm not going to flip out about it anymore ok? I promise. I'll just say it over and over again until I believe it. What was it you said? 'I'm gay means I'm loved?' Sounds good to me."

I try again to touch you the way I wanted to last night, and this time you don't resist. I lock onto your eyes as my hand slides down your body, reaching for your center. I don't worry about your arousal, I know how your body reacts to me. By the time I reach the most beautiful v in the world you're already wet, and waiting. I dip the tip of my finger beyond your silky folds, sliding inside you slowly, gently. I love the way your skin envelopes me, takes me in, hugs at me.

You turn towards me, relieving my arm of the awkward angle and letting me stare in your eyes as I stroke you, soaking my fingers in your juices, letting you coat me with your desire. You shut your eyes, squeezing your lids together as I add a second finger, gently pushing inside you, feeling your walls react, feeling your body respond from the inside out. I reach my free hand to your face, pulling you into a kiss as you open your eyes again, staring me down. I add a third finger, sliding inside, feeling your tightness around me as I withdraw, then enter again, making love to you slowly, tenderly, watching the flush rise on your neck, watching your breath catch as my hand tickles inside you, as my thumb finally settles directly on your clit.

You whisper my name, your tone strained as you bite your lip. Your body jumps, and I love that little gasp as I increase my tempo, dipping my head to take your breast in my lips, suckling at your nipple feeling your body squirm, feeling you start to yearn for release. I rake my teeth over your standing nipple, then move my head back level with yours as your mouth seeks mine.

I move my hand more forcefully, shortening the length of my thrusts, moving my thumb more quickly around your swollen clit, I cradle your head with my free hand, holding you so you can't look away, so you have to get lost in me while you come. When I feel your body relaxing, feel myself slipping from inside you I bring my hand back up, watch you watch me as I taste you on my fingers. When I'm done, you're blushing again, and I can't resist the jab,

"Gonna miss me?" I wink and you pounce, tickling at my ribs until I cry from laughter. You don't answer my question, but I know… because I'm going to miss you too.


	20. Fly Away Home

**Chapter Twenty: Fly Away Home**

_Alex_

By nine am I'm at work, and you're winging your way back across the country. I sit at my desk where I should be working, and instead spend a good twenty minutes playing with my engagement ring. I'm distracted without you, finding it hard to work. My replacement will be in tomorrow and then the training begins. She's been working homicide cases so it shouldn't be too difficult to groom her for the SVU loop, although having done it myself I know it can be difficult at first. Hopefully she'll have better luck with this particular squad than I have. In the meantime I force myself to stop staring at my ring and actually clean up some files. I'm trying to fine-tune a system so that the next ADA doesn't encounter the same crazy stack and fall I walked into. I wonder what you're doing? Are you still flying? I can't remember when your flight was scheduled to get in.

I resist the temptation to call your cell, and turn back to my work as a knock sounds on my half-closed door. I look up to see a raven-tressed woman in a sharp suit.

"Can I help you?"

"Cassandra Jackson, I'm the new ADA. Alexandra Cabot I presume?"

Wow. The woman is beautiful, perfectly coiffed, an eager light in eyes that I'd swear were violet. I stand and hold out my hand to shake. Her grip is firm, and there's an exuberance about her that seems at first charming, and quickly wanes into skepticism. I once had that kind of exuberance. Before I spent my days staring at crime scene photos, and listening to rape victims.

"I was led to believe you would be starting tomorrow. Was I misled?"

"No, I know I don't start until tomorrow technically, but the meeting I had scheduled today was cancelled so I thought I'd drop by and get a head start."

In a few weeks she'll regret that decision. She'll wish she'd taken one last day away before starting this rotation. ADA's don't last long on SVU detail. It's a rough pick, even when you've started with homicide. I wonder how long she'll have that shine in her eyes, then realize it doesn't matter to me. By the time she's worn thin I'll be back in New York working with my own squad again. The sun catches my ring through the half-shaded window and I see Cassandra's eyes fall to study the small diamond-décored band.

"So, leaving to get married?"

"Not exactly. I used to work in New York, but a few years ago I had to enter Witness Protection… I went after the wrong guy, and he came after me."

I see a new light dawn in her eyes, "Wait-- You're **that** Alex Cabot? Wow. I thought you were an urban legend."

I'm starting to get a feel for how young she really is. I'm barely thirty but next to her I feel old, she's still got that youthful sense of naiveté. When did I lose that exactly? When did you? We were never ignorant, not in the way that some women are, but weren't we once naive this way? I can't help the sigh that escapes my lips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, it's just-- well my law professor told me all about you. Especially when I told him I was considering this specialty. I guess he wanted me to be prepared for how bad it can get. But yours was sort of a special case right?"

I nod, not really wanting to discuss it. Suddenly I feel as though I'm being studied. I speak to break the sudden silence,

"So, ready to start?"

She nods eagerly and we set to work. I start by outlining the system I've spent the morning not working on. By the time lunch rolls around I'm swimming in her adoration. She lays it on thick, and I'm beyond ready to hand over this innocence-shattering job. You'd say that's unnecessarily cruel, but I can't help it. This girl is a precocious 24 year old recent Yale grad who should know better by now. I spare a sad thought to my new jaded attitude, but the last few years have taught me only too well that this job is far from sunshine and roses. Cassandra, or "Cass!" rather, will learn soon enough that optimism will only go so far with a 6 year old rape victim, and her sunny-side-up attitude will scare off a woman who's been left beaten and raped in a cold dark ally.

As the day ends, I realize these are lessons for another day, and as I bid my farewells I hit my first speed dial and grin as your voice comes on the line just as I lock myself into the safe silence of my car.

_Olivia_

"I'm alive and in one piece, safe in my apartment… excuse me-- **our** apartment, missing you like crazy."

"Why do you answer the phone that way?"

"What way?"

"Like you know it's me."

"Haven't we had this fight before?"

"Ok, Ok, I give. How was the flight?"

"Eh, fine. Long. Had a baby behind me the whole way, and a chatty old woman next to me. Want to hear all my new knowledge about varicose vein removal?"

I can hear you cringing over the phone and I can't resist a laugh. "Yeah, I know. Lord. I heard about the whole thing in detail-- I'd rather watch Casey close a case in a lime green top and purple pinstripe suit."

"Have you talked to anyone since you've been back?"

"No, but Elliot left about four messages, I had one each from Munch and Fin, one from Serena and Casey, and… one from Kathy believe it or not."

"What aren't you telling me?"

How do you do that? I didn't want to tell you this, "There was also a message from your mom. She-- she wants to have dinner. Just the two of us. On Friday."

"Oh good Lord. Liv ignore it, you don't have to do that, and it's not her place to try and talk you out of this."

"I was thinking maybe I'd go." I'm not sure why since I'm not entirely convinced your mother won't just have a sniper waiting to take me out as I walk to the door.

"Olivia, no. Ok, look we can have dinner with her together when I get back if you insist, but I don't want you going over there without me."

"Alex, I'm a cop, I think I can hold my own."

"Not against mother."

"Oh ye of little faith. Do you honestly think she could talk me out of this? I love you, I proposed, I want to marry you. She can't change that, not in one night anyway."

You scoff, and I can hear your anxiety radiating through the phone line. It's hardly my idea of a fun evening, but I can't imagine Juliana has anything to say that would actually get me to change my mind about you, about us. She certainly hasn't stopped me before, and not for lack of trying.

_Alex_

I'm not worried about you. Really, I'm not.

Ok, I am worried about you. I know you've had run-ins with mother before but I don't think you understand the way my mother _handles_ things like this. I'll never forget the **first **time she tried to get me to marry Trevor. I still shudder when I see him. Ugh. Whatever it is she wants, I'm positive this won't end well.

"I'd just rather you passed on it Liv. It's not safe."

"What is she going to do, shoot me?" You laugh, but it's tinted with nervousness. "I'll be fine Lexi, trust me. You're mother isn't going to ruin this, I promise."

"Just be careful Liv, she's got a golden tongue. And a will of steel."

"Sounds a lot like her daughter."

I roll my eyes. "Please don't lay on the crap tonight, I've spent the whole day listening to how 'amazing' my story is."

"Ah, the new ADA arrives?"

I groan and hear you giggle on the other end. "She's horrendous. She's twenty-four Liv. **Twenty-Four!** She graduated top of her class at Yale Law, about 3 years before the rest of her should-be classmates. And she's so … perky. Lord. I wanted to wrap her ponytail around her neck and pull."

You've given over giggling to full-blown laughter and I can't help but smile at the sound of you. "I miss you Livvy."

"Awww, I miss you too. But look it's almost over right? The sooner you get her trained, the sooner you get to come home. And the sooner we start winning cases again."

"What do you mean?"

"I talked to Elliot before you called. Casey blew another one. Some ridiculous technicality that you would easily have objected right out of the trial."

"Yes well, I can't wait to work with an SVU team that actually works with me instead of against me. I can't wait to hand these losers over to Cass."

"Cass?" Is that a jealous twinge I hear in your voice?

_Olivia_

"Cass?" I can't keep the touch of jealousy from my voice. You're certainly talking a blue streak about her. "Is that actually her name?'

"Actually it's Cassandra, but she prefers 'Cass'. Ugh. She's positively insipid."

"She certainly seems to have garnered your attention."

"Olivia Benson, are you actually jealous of that infant?"

"Well--"

"Olivia, you've been gone less than a day-- you really think I'd replace you that quickly? I need at least 24 full hours to find another willing body."

You try to sound serious but your laughter finds its way to the open and I laugh with you, my odd possessiveness fading with our humor. As we say our goodbyes I set my alarm, giving myself time in the morning for a jog. I've gotten lazy in two months with you and it's time to get back into a routine.

When the alarm goes off at 5am I snooze it, my good intentions out the window. I forget how tiring it is to fly all day. Besides, I'm sure I'll get in lots of running at work. Cap won't leave me on ass-duty all day. Elliot'd kill him-- he was desperate for details when we spoke, and he'll want more tomorrow. For a guy, he certainly is a gossip-fiend. Doesn't share much, but wants to know everything. I roll over in my bed and reset the alarm to give me time for a shower before cabbing it to work. Exercise can wait until I'm on the job. I'd rather have an extra hour to dream about you.


	21. Dinner

**Chapter Twenty-One: Dinner**

_Alex_

The week drags by, each day slower than the last and I'm frustrated with training my pep-squad reject replacement, and dreading the dinner you're having tonight with my mother. It's not that I don't trust her-- it's just that I don't trust her. Cass is annoying as I expected but what I didn't expect is that her rah-rah style seems to be working with the local SVU squad. I guess her cheerleader style demeanor strikes a chord with the misogynistic bunch, and she's got them jumping through hoops to find better, more solid evidence in every case. I've stopped dropping in on the stationhouse completely, instead choosing to send Cass for most of my information. It's annoying getting her prep-school reports when she returns but it's definitely better than pulling teeth to get it from the guys myself.

Friday night finally comes and I find myself leaving work early, sitting by the phone, waiting for your report. At six pm my time you still haven't called and I'm convinced mother's absconded with you somewhere. I call the apartment, leaving you a message, then try your cell to find it turned off, out of service. At eight o'clock I call Elliot.

"Stabler." Elliot sounds groggy, and annoyed.

"Elliot, it's Alex."

"Alex, it's eleven o'clock and I'm working the morning shift. I love you guys, but not this much. What did she do?"

"No, it's not like that. Olivia was supposed to have dinner with my mother hours ago and she's not back yet. I'm worried."

"And you called me?"

"Well. I mean, can you… go over there? Check and see if she's still there?"

"Did you try her cell?"

"Yes, it's not turned on. And I've left her about 10 messages at the apartment and I'm worried."

"What exactly do you think happened Alex? I'm sure they're just talking, it's probably a good thing."

I can't hide my anxiety, and I hear my voice break despite my attempt to stay calm, "Elliot. Please. Just… drive by the apartment, drive out to the house. What if something happened?"

I hear Elliot groan, and take a deep breath, "Alex, I love you guys, but Olivia can take care of herself. Look, if you haven't heard from her by say, ten your time call me back and I'll drive around. But otherwise, I'm not going out to Long Island for anything less than a work call, or fifty-thousand dollars and a Rolex."

I take a deep breath, resigned. "Ok. Ok. I'm sure she's fine, she's fine right? I mean, it's Olivia. And it's just my mother. She's my mother. She may be madder than hell but she wouldn't actually **hurt** her."

"Exactly. Goodnight Alex."

"Sorry El, I just… I worry."

"S'ok. Call me if she doesn't show up. And Alex, stop worrying-- it's Liv."

"Right. Night."

I hang up and try your cell phone again. I pitch the phone into the couch in frustration, where the hell are you?

_Olivia_

I've been dreading this all week. I've taken the day off in preparation, switched days with Fin so I could spend some time today preparing myself for dinner with your mother. I think the most frightening thing is that I have no idea what to expect. I mean, your mother hates me. So the only thing I can think she possibly intends to do is to try and scare me off. Or worse-- buy me off. I've changed clothes a hundred times. Done and redone my makeup. Styled my hair, then re-showered and shaken it dry. By the time it's four o'clock I'm back in my robe staring at my closet with my hair sopping wet.

I've thought about calling you at work, asking you for advice but I know you're already nervous enough about this without hearing that I'm nervous too. You've tried repeatedly to talk me out of this dinner, and I've almost agreed on more than one occasion. But the truth is I'm curious, and I'd rather like the chance to speak with your mother about a few things without having you cluck disapprovingly at both of us. I grab at my original outfit again, pulling on the slacks you bought for me, and one of my 'nice' fitted t-shirts. I pull my favorite leather jacket out and lay it on the bed, then head to the bathroom to deal with my hair. A quick shake and a little gel and I'm ready to go. I opt against a lot of makeup, I want to feel comfortable when I confront your mother, and talking around a mouthful of lipstick won't do it. Another head shake and I'm ready to go. I spend the next hour pacing, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to decide what I'll say when it's my turn to speak. At five o'clock the bell rings and I'm surprised to see the Cabot Chauffeur at the stoop below. I was going to catch a cab, but apparently your mother has other ideas.

_Alex_

I snatch at the phone before it finishes the first ring, "Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"Yeah, well I love you, but that was hardly a picnic for me either baby. Your mother is vicious, you know that?"

"What happened? Why were you gone so long?"

"I went for a walk after the chauffeur dropped me off"

"Oh lord, she sent Thomas to get you?"

"Oh yes, yes she did. And did you ever get the feeling that your family's dear chauffeur has something of a 'thing' for your mother? Because by the time I got to the house I was more worried about Thomas coming after me with a tire iron than I was about getting railroaded by your mom."

"I'm sorry. Thomas is a little… protective of the family. He's been the Cabot driver since before my folks got married. I think he had a pact with daddy to watch out for mom or something. It's a little… odd." How did we get off track. "Olivia, what happened with my mother?"

You sigh, and I can tell I'm not going to like this. I expect you to pop in, start talking but instead there's just this awkward silence.

"Stop trying to find the right words and just tell me dammit. What did she say?"

_Olivia_

By the time I got to your mother's house I wasn't just nervous, I was terrified. Thomas isn't one of those quiet, put up the screen, pretend I'm not here kind of drivers. Thomas is loud and ballsy, and talkative, and determined to protect your mom fiercely from any harm I may intend to cause her. When he deposited me somewhat unceremoniously at the gate to your mother's estate, I realized I was sweating and I grabbed the Kleenex I'd stashed in my pocket and wipe my forehead. I buzzed at the callbox and watched nervously as a camera turns in my direction.

"Yes?"

"Um. Olivia Benson, I'm supposed to have dinner with Mrs. Cabot?"

"Yes, Detective, please come up to the main entrance."

The gates swung open and I walked up the long drive, feeling petulant and pissed that Thomas hadn't driven me up to the door. It seems like a decidedly strategic move and I'm not sure if it was Thomas' choice or your mother's. Either way, I was glad I'm in shape by the time I got to what could only be the main entrance. I didn't have a chance to ring the bell as a well-dressed man pulled open the door and ushered me inside.

"Mrs. Cabot will receive you in the living room, and dinner will be served in the dining room in an hour."

An hour? I have to talk to her for an hour **before** dinner? I'd rather be locked in a windowless room with a serial rapist who's armed with a machete and a semi-automatic. I ground my teeth, and smiled politely as the man who is apparently a butler swept me into a finely decorated living room. All white walls were accented by overlarge gallery prints of artists I didn't recognize, and the furniture was too renaissance in style to possibly be comfortable. I can't imagine you being a child there, can't imagine anyone growing up there. My clothes were completely clean and I was afraid to sit on the too-white sofa, where on earth was a muddy child to sit? The woods were dark and the room had the air of wealth that I'd expect from your mother's home. How on earth did you become the person you are in a place like this?

I was running a hand along the plush fabric of a particularly overstuffed chair when your mother surprised me

"Miss Benson." Her voice was stiff, full of barely-disguised loathing, and her sudden presence made me jump.

"Mrs. Cabot." I didn't acknowledge that she dropped my title.

"Please, have a seat." She settled easily in the only remotely comfortable chair in the room, and I chose to perch rather precariously on the too-narrow sofa, worrying that I'd sweat the black of my new pants onto the too-white fabric. Your mother sat, regarding me with some unrecognizable fire in her eyes.

"Miss Benson, I'm sure you know why I've asked you here this evening."

"Actually Mrs. Cabot, it's Detective Benson, and no I don't." My nerves vanished as she began to speak, mostly because I finally recognized the face in the portrait behind her on the wall. It's yours, probably no more than six years old.

"Yes of course… Detective. Perhaps we can forgo the formalities, please call me Juliana, and what is it Alexandra calls you-- Livvy?" I felt a flash of anger as she used the nickname I reserve only for you.

"Olivia. Just Olivia."

There was a satisfied glint in your mother's eyes, she could tell she was getting under my skin.

"What exactly do you want Juliana? You're not exactly my biggest fan, and it's no secret I'm the reason you're no longer speaking to your own daughter. So why exactly have you dragged me out here on a Friday night when I'd quite frankly, rather be spending some time on the phone talking to my fiancée who's an entire continent away?"

Your mother looked momentarily shocked, I guess she wasn't expecting me to take the offensive.

"An excellent question Detective. Let's get right to the point shall we?"

"Let's." I waited anxiously for whatever your mother had up her sleeve.

"You already know how I feel about you and your relationship with my daughter. I'd like to make a proposal."

"Mrs. Cabot-- Juliana. I am not interested in having my interests purchased. And my relationship with your daughter is not up for discussion, or for barter."

"Yes, I assumed as much. I certainly didn't think it would be easy. But everyone has a price Detective, especially single women living in rat-hole apartments making city-wages, working too hard, too long for little or no recognition. I can change that. I do have certain connections. Haven't you ever wanted a promotion? A new job? Out of the gruesome world of Special Victim's? I'm offering you a chance to have anything you've ever wanted. The sky is the limit Detective. And all I'm asking is that you leave my daughter alone."

"Really? That's all? Let me get this straight Mrs. Cabot. You would rather I break your daughter's heart, not just by leaving her two weeks after I've proposed marriage, but by letting myself be sold out of our relationship by an offer of 'anything I could possibly want'? You'd rather I did that than actually continued to make her happy, and let me assure you-- she is happy-- you'd rather I did that than continued to love her? What is it exactly about our relationship that is so very threatening to you?"

"My daughter is not a lesbian _Miss _Benson. The moment she met you she became a completely different person. I don't know how you did it, or why but you have turned her into some sort of… pervert. I'll give you credit-- you must be very persuasive. She was all set, on track for a real career. Until you came along she could have done anything, been anything. She was headed for a judge's chair, politics even. And now… now she's living in some god-forsaken hick town on the other side of the country and playing at gay poster-woman for a new millennium. This is not what I had in mind for my daughter. She deserves better than this. No. She deserves better than you."

"So if I was someone else it wouldn't matter? If I were another woman you wouldn't care? Is that it? It's not that she's gay, it's that she's mine? It's that she chose me? Have you **met** your daughter Mrs. Cabot? She's not easily talked into things. She doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. She is quite capable of making her own decisions, and has been for some time. And just in case you've missed some of the details, since you refuse to talk to your own daughter, she came to me. She asked me out. She fell in love with me.

"And I won't pretend that I wasn't thrilled, that I wasn't over the moon with happiness when she invited me out to dinner the first time, that I didn't do the whole girly swoon thing when she told me how she felt about me. But I did not seduce your daughter. I didn't pursue her. I fell in love with your daughter the first time I saw her. But I didn't pursue her. I didn't want to put that on her. I didn't want her to have to deal with situations like this. And when we did finally find each other I begged her to keep it quiet, not to tell anyone. Not just because I was afraid for myself, but because I was afraid for her. I was afraid that she would encounter this kind of discrimination, this kind of bigotry. Neither of us imagined she'd get it from her own_ mother_ of all people, but I tried to protect her from it.

"I did not corrupt your daughter. I did not hurt her. All I did was love her, which is more than I can say for you Mrs. Cabot. You're so afraid of her getting hurt? What the fuck is your excuse?"

_Alex_

I can't help the tears that fall as you tell me how you stood up to my mother. Even though I'm sad, and not terribly surprised, I wish I could have seen the look on her face. "You shouldn't have antagonized her Olivia. You don't understand just how far-reaching her 'contacts' can be."

"What is she going to do Alex, get me fired? Cragen would never let anyone touch me. And besides Alex, did you catch the part where she tried to pay me not to be with you? How are you not infuriated by this?"

"What more needs to be said baby, sounds to me like you handled it brilliantly."

"You're not angry?"

"Liv, why would I be angry? Did you really expect anything less of her? I certainly didn't. Why do you think I tried so hard to keep you from going? I'm surprised you didn't slug her. I would have."

Ok, I wouldn't have, but still. You handled yourself far more gracefully than I could have. "So that was it? You didn't stay for dinner, you just left?"

You're quiet. What haven't you told me yet?

"Liv."

"That was just the good bit. It sort of went… downhill from there."

_Olivia_

"Dinner, Madame." The Jeeves-type interrupted our argument and before I had a chance to storm from the house I was swept into a formal dining room, complete with mahogany dining table, suited to seat twelve, set for two. I was fuming, so angry I could hardly see, and somehow I still found myself seated across from your mother, at a finely set place surrounded by too many forks, and a wineglass. Cute.

I snagged the butler as he turned to leave, handing him my full wineglass, "You can take this with you. I'd prefer a glass of water please. As Mrs. Cabot is well-aware, I don't drink."

"Jeeves" paused, looking to Mrs. Cabot for approval, then took the wineglass as she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Well done Detective. Surely you can't fault me for wondering."

"Wondering what-- if I've been keeping my promises? I told Alex I wouldn't drink and I haven't. But I'm sure you know that. I'm sure you can agree that these little… tests are below even you."

"Perhaps." Sounding ever dignified, I got a small spark of vindication seeing the flash of anger that crossed her eyes. It's easy to see where you get those amazing blue eyes. For all her faults, Juliana is stunning. If it's true that women age like their mothers, you will no doubt be breathtakingly beautiful until the day you die. Your face has a softness that your mother's lacks however, and there's a kindness in your eyes that is absent in your mother's searing crystal blues. She turned them to study me as a perfectly dressed maid served the first course.

An impossibly small bird rested on a plate decorated with some nameless sauce. I decided to follow Juliana's lead with the bird, but she remained still, watching me. I tried not to grimace as I thought back to what you've told me about these fancy-schmancy dinners. I grabbed the second fork in, vaguely remembering something about the salad fork being on the outside, and I must have chosen the right one as Juliana herself picked up the second fork and her knife and began to cut off delicate pieces from the tiny bird. We held the silence between us until I could scrape no more meat from the bone, and I was glad I'd eaten before I came. This bird couldn't fill a child. Why do rich people insist on eating such difficult food?

As the kitchen help cleared our plates and brought out a plate of some unrecognizable vegetable, Juliana broke the silence. "Did you enjoy your hen Detective?"

"Pardon?"

"Cornish Game Hen. A delicate bird, delicious when properly prepared. It's made remarkably better with the complement of a fine white wine, although I can see how you wouldn't really notice."

I tried not to sputter my anger, I may not understand all of this fancy shit, but I know when I'm being patronized. "Why am I still here Juliana? Clearly my company isn't what you'd like it to be, so why don't I just leave?"

"I'm not finished with you Detective."

"Well quite frankly Mrs. Cabot, I am finished. I don't believe you have anything of value to say to me, and I certainly don't have anything I'm willing to say to you if I intend to keep my sense of propriety, so--"

"Propriety Miss Benson? That's rather an interesting concern coming from someone like you. You don't seem to be terribly concerned with propriety when it comes to my daughter."

"Why? Because I'm gay?" For once the word didn't stick in my throat, and I didn't feel the usual pull of anxiety at the sound of it in the room. I suppose having to defend you to your mother gave me the courage to be honest. "Being gay doesn't mean I can't be discrete. In fact, even my own partner didn't know about it until after Alex came back in February. We were more than discreet. In Elliot's words, we were 'damn near non-existent.' The only person that helped was me, and it caused your daughter a great deal of pain in the meantime. You claim to be so concerned with Alex's feelings. Have you stopped to ask her exactly **how** she feels? Or are you just running on some judgment of how you **think** she should feel?"

"I know perfectly well how my daughter feels Miss Benson. She has made her feelings disgustingly clear in regards to your _relationship_. But she is quite clearly under the delusion that this sort of thing is all right, that this sort of relationship is acceptable. I don't know how exactly you've convinced her to abandon all of her good breeding, but she isn't thinking clearly, and hasn't been for some time."

_Alex_

"Breeding? Breeding? Like I'm what, a prized poodle? Damn-it. That woman… ugh. God. Please tell me you hit her?" I can't believe it, can't believe she still has the nerve to call herself my mother. Why on earth was I ever concerned with her opinions? To her, I'm worth as much as a show dog. But even as angry as I am, as sorry as I am that she's treated you to her particular brand of concern and cruelty, I can't help feeling just a touch of loss for my relationship with my mother. She was once my friend, a confidant. I used to admire her, the way she picked herself up after Daddy died, took over his holdings, his business ventures. She made quite a name for herself as a corporate widow, and ultimately as a corporate survivor. I've seen mother reduce entire board-rooms to tears. For some reason, my falling in love with you reduced me to the level of corporate miscreant in her eyes. Even though I know I should be disgusted, I'm hurt too, because above it all I should still be her daughter.

"Olivia, why did you stay? Why didn't you just leave, before dinner, why did you let her treat you that way?"

"She didn't do all the talking Alex. I stayed because I had things I needed to say-- things I needed her to know. This was the only chance I'm going to get. You know as well as I do that once the wedding is done she won't be speaking to either of us, ever if she can help it. I don't intend to seek her out to say the things I have to say, so I took advantage of the opportunity that presented itself. f it meant having to defend you and us to her at the same time then fine."

I sigh. You just can't escape the need to play my hero. I love you for it, but one day I'm going to have to find a way to repay the favor. "So what are these 'things' you had to say?"

_Olivia_

After the final plate was cleared I found myself perched again on the odd white sofa, watching your mother drink Cognac. I have to admit, the woman has balls, but I was tired of these little jousts. It was time to get to the point.

"Look, Juliana. I didn't come here to listen to you demean my relationship, or to spend my evening defending your own daughters honor. I came here because I had a few things I needed to get off of my chest."

"Sadly detective, that wasn't really the--"

"I don't give a fuck what the point of this little invitation was. I've listened to you diminish, demean, and demoralize my relationship for… three hours now. It's time that you did a little listening yourself. I know it won't be easy-- you're accustomed to being heard, and abided. But I am not most people, Mrs. Cabot. I'm not accustomed to being questioned, or interrogated. Let me tell you how this is going to work. I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. When I'm finished, you're going to have Jeeves the Butler call me a cab to take me home. And after tonight, you will **not** contact me again. And unless you find yourself in a position to apologize to your daughter, you won't contact her either. You will not make threats about my career, you will not attempt to buy me off, and you will not make any further offers to 'buy' my affections away from Alex. One- because I would have no problem bringing you in for attempting to bribe an officer of the law" I held up a hand at her objection. I know it would be a trumped up charge, and that it wouldn't stick, but I can't say I wouldn't enjoy watching your mother sweat a night in jail in the meantime. "And two- because it can't be done. You said you could offer me anything I've ever wanted? Guess what-- the only thing I have **ever**, **_ever_** wanted was for Alex to be happy, for Alex to be loved. And I do Mrs. Cabot, love her I mean. She is the only thing in my life that I want. And clearly she is not yours to give, so you can put your money away. Some people can't be bought."

"Really Detective, is this necessary?" Your mother is beginning to look a little uncomfortable. I'm sorry to say I rather enjoy this.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is. You've made it necessary. Believe me, I'd much rather just walk away, leave it, believe that someday you'll realize your daughter is worth more than your sense of decency, worth more than your reputation." I don't give her a chance to interrupt, launching directly into the speech I've been preparing since the last time your mother and I had words.

"When I met Alex… when I met Alex I was a mess. I was a drunk, I was sleeping with men I barely knew, I was trying to convince myself that I was someone I wasn't. I'd spent a lot of time trying to be something I wasn't, and when Alex walked in, all of a sudden I stopped fighting. I stopped fighting my history, my heritage, my instincts. Your daughter, the one you so easily dismiss, changed me. She made me a better woman, makes me a better woman. Falling in love with her, watching her fall in love with me was an intense experience. Most days I still wonder how it happened, how I got so lucky. It hasn't been perfect, and we've both nearly shot it to hell more than once. And those two years when Lex was gone…" my voice cracks, I wish I could stop the flood of emotions that washes over me thinking of those years after you'd died. I don't want to cry in front of your mother. I drop my eyes away from her gaze, using the moment to compose myself.

"When Lex was gone I stopped living. I worked because I had to, but it wasn't the same. I felt like my world fell apart without her. I thought maybe when she was gone that you and I … I don't know. That maybe you'd relent, that maybe you'd see what she meant to me. It was stupid, and overly optimistic I know. But for some reason I thought that maybe the fact that I loved her would be enough for you. Clearly I overestimated you. She tried to warn me, tried to tell me what you were like and I just couldn't believe that a mother would-- what, disown-- her daughter for something she has no control over. Alex didn't choose this, it chose her. She was born this way, and so was I. I tried for years to deny that I was gay, but Alex… Alex never tried to deny anything. She'd never really thought about it but as soon as we sorted out how we really felt she wanted to tell the world. I've always admired that about her.

"She calls me her hero, tells me I'm her knight in shining armor, that I'm courageous. But the truth is, she's the brave one. And I love her, for that, and a million other reasons I can't even begin to describe. I'm sorry that you can't see her the way I do, that you can't love her the way you should. But I won't let you hurt her anymore."

"Are you quite finished Detective?" Her revulsion was thinly veiled, and I could see the mask of her propriety slipping. I was treading thin ice, and quite frankly, I no longer cared.

"Not quite. If you ever, and I mean **ever** speak to your daughter the way you did when she called to tell you about our engagement, I will personally make your life a living hell. You see Juliana, I have some 'contacts' of my own. And I'm sure that some of these contacts, particularly the ones connected with the IRS and the department of finance would have more than a passing interest in some of your late-husband's 'business' holdings-- holdings over which you now have executive control. I've done a bit of research Mrs. Cabot. And while I don't particularly like stooping to threats, I really don't see any other way at this point to make it clear. You have two options: The first is that you retain contact with your daughter and lend her your support, and your love. The second is that you leave us both the hell alone to live our lives in peace. Should you choose another option, other than the two I've given you, I will have no qualms handing over some of my research to my friends in the financial district. I hope you'll keep that in mind."

Your mother looked shocked, even-- terrified. I suppose she never imagined me to be quite this resourceful. She should have known not to challenge someone like me. I meant it when I said I didn't like resorting to threats, but desperate times and all that. I waited for your mother to recover, watched as she pondered her options. Her face shifted slowly from terrified to resigned, and I knew I'd won. Finally.

She stood and walked to the almost invisible all-white intercom next to the doorway of the living room.

"George, tell Thomas to bring the car around. Detective Benson is ready to leave."

"I'll take a cab."

"Nonsense. Thomas will drive you. It's the least I can do."

We were silent until a gentle knock sounded on the door, and George/Jeeves announced the appearance of your mother's driver.

"It's been… interesting, Detective. Please give my regards to Alexandra. You needn't worry, I won't be contacting her, or you again."

I nodded, gathering my jacket and turning to leave, resigning myself to being driven by the venerable Thomas. When I heard your mother clear her throat I turned back,

"Olivia."

"Yes?"

"Take care of my daughter will you? She's… worth it."

I nodded, "I know she is."


	22. Money

**Chapter Twenty-Two: **

_Alex_

It's been almost three weeks since you've been back in New York. Almost three weeks since your dinner with my mother. Every time I think about it I shake my head in amazement. You refused to tell me exactly what information you found on mother's companies, telling me it was a bluff… but the tone in your voice, and my mother's reaction tells me it's not. I've spent three weeks training Cass, and she seems ready to handle the job on her own. I take a few days off to do some research of my own, making sure both Cass and Williams know where to reach me at all times in case of a problem, but I have every confidence that Cassandra can handle the job on her own at this point. She's lost a bit of her original pep-squad attitude, and seems to be getting a feel for talking to victims. I don't anticipate any problems as I head out to the library on a Wednesday afternoon.

Reaching the information desk at Lewis and Clark's main university library I ask for the start-up assistance I'll need to get into their research programs, far more expansive than anything I can access from my own internet surfing at home. I've found hints of what you may have discovered, but to get more in depth information I need wider access. When the grad student saunters away to help a term-paper panicked freshman, I click into the university-wide system, looking first at newspaper clippings, and then moving onto financial pages. I end up with a lot of supposition, but no real facts. I don't know how you found whatever it is that you have against my mother, but I know one place where I can get it for myself, although I'm loathe to do so.

Three hours after I set out on my quest I'm back at home, and picking up my phone to make a call I'd rather avoid. Unfortunately Trevor is the only one who might be able to clue me in.

"Langan and Langan, how may I direct your call?"

"Elisha, it's Alexandra Cabot, is Trevor in?"

"Miss Cabot, let me check. Actually he's out of court and should be in his office, let me connect you."

There's a brief pause, and some canned music but I don't have to wait long,

"What is it Alex?" The voice on the other line is strained, and clearly annoyed.

"Hello to you too Trevor."

"Make it quick counselor."

"Trevor… come now. After all of our history that's all I am to you?" I'm aware that I'm laying it on a bit thick, but I really need him on my side for this.

"What do you want Alex?"

"I need to know what you know about mother's companies."

He scoffs, "what do you mean, 'What I know?'"

"Come off it Trevor, I know that your father's firm is the exclusive legal counsel for Cabot Investments. I want to see the files."

"Confidential information counselor, I'm sure you understand that financial investments are a delicate privileged issue. I'm afraid I can't share that information without a warrant."

"I'm family. Technically, the investments are mine too. It's my name on those forms as well Trevor and you know it. What are you hiding?"

"Actually Alex, your name isn't on those papers. Your mother came to see me last week. Aside from the trust fund that your father set up at your birth, you are not eligible to receive any dividends from Cabot Investments. You are no longer the heir to the fortune Alex. I'm not sure what you did exactly to get cut out, but it also means you no longer have legal access to those files."

It takes me a moment to recover. I can't say I'm surprised, but it does make things seem a little… final. I don't have time to be upset right now, I need information.

"Trevor **Alistair** Langan. You know damn well what I _did_ to get cut off. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now." I throw in Trevor's middle name, knowing how much it annoys him.

"What are you going to do Alex? Break my heart? Oh wait-- you already did that."

"Bullshit Trevor. In order to break someone's heart, they have to have one to begin with. Something about Cabot Investments isn't on the up and up and I want to know what it is. What did your father get my mother into? Money Laundering? Gun running?" I realize I sound irrational, but I can't help the way Trevor makes my hackles rise. Even before I knew I was gay he repulsed me.

"My father has nothing to do with it Alex. He handed over the legal work of Cabot Investments ten years ago, when he thought you and I were going to get married. He decided it would be wise to keep it in the close family. I suppose he figured I'd want to be able to defend my wife if something happened."

"Look, Trevor. I'm not sure where you got the idea that I would **ever** have been willing to marry you. Probably from my mother, but as you know she's not exactly the most reliable source when it comes to what I want from life. But if you, or your father have in any way jeopardized those companies, or put my mother's finances and reputation at risk, I will find a way to link you to it, and then I'll find a way to detain your legal counsel while my detectives treat you to a 'special tour' of New York. SVU style."

"Feisty, feisty Alexandra. Anything untoward that's mixed up in your mother's business is just that-- your mother's business. Any holes that have been dug she dug herself. And since when are you concerned with your mother's reputation? In fact, when did you start being concerned with anything regarding your mother and her well-being? Seems to me if you were all that concerned, you wouldn't still be playing house with the alkie lesbo-cop."

"Listen up Langan. I'm going to find out what you're hiding from me. I'm going to find out exactly what it is that no-one wants me to know about those companies. And if I find out that you were in any way involved, I'll have your law degree and bar certification on a silver platter. I suggest if you'd like to avoid that, you send me anything in those files I might find of particular interest. That way, when the shit hits the fan, I _might_ be able to haul your ass out of fire. Just a little something to consider, _counselor_."

I slam the phone back into its cradle and get up from the couch, pacing the living room. I'm frustrated, and fed up, and as angry as I am at my mother I'm a little worried about what exactly she's gotten herself into. Trevor's right about one thing, I've given alarmingly little thought to the family's business ventures. I can't exactly ask mother about it, and you clearly aren't going to share your information. There's only one other person I might be able to ask. I'd like to hold off on calling Uncle Bill just yet. Getting him involved if he doesn't already know what's going on could bring a certain spotlight of attention to the whole matter that I'd rather not flip on right now. If Uncle Bill pokes around and finds something, his familial obligation is to my dead father, not to my very living mother. As angry as I am, I'd rather not bring the Department of Justice down on her. At least not until I have a better handle on whatever it is that's going on.

_Olivia_

The last three weeks have been fairly typical. Same cases, same vics, same struggle. I keep reminding myself that Casey is only going to be here until February, and then you'll be back, kicking butt and taking names. In the meantime, I try to remember that Casey is a friend-- sort of, despite her relative incompetence in a courtroom. And, with you in Oregon and Serena in DC, we do have something in common. Still she has a unique ability to make me nuts, and sometimes it's hard to separate her everyday personality and her courtroom persona. As nice as it's been to have someone around who understands, I'll be glad when she's shuffled up to DC and away from our cases. It's time to start winning again, on something other than a technicality.

You've spent a good chunk of the last three weeks trying to get me to tell you what exactly I've found out about your mother's companies, but I still think it's best you don't know all the details. It's not gun running, but it's not something I want you wrapped up in either. I've left all the pertinent information in my safe-deposit box in case I actually need it, but anything that didn't go in the box, or that ended up double-copied got shredded and pitched. I don't want you anywhere near your mother's business, and for once I'm glad she's shut you out. I should have turned that information over to the Departments of Finance and Revenues like I threatened, but I think for now it's a good idea to have a little something over your mother. That, and I know that you don't want to see your mother go to jail, even if you are angry.

I sigh, pushing thoughts of your mother's future troubles out of my mind, not wanting to dwell on something I can at least hope will never happen. I watch Casey make her closing arguments, nudging Elliot as she lurches towards the jury box. He leans towards me and I can't resist a conspiratorial whisper,

"Ready to have the glasses of justice back?"

He stifles a chuckle, "Anything's better than the lurch of doom."

Petrovsky shoots us a look and I pull away from my partner and try to look dignified. The case Novak's finishing was fairly cut and dried, plenty of evidence and I'm convinced even she can't lose this one. Within an hour of the deliberations start, the jury is back with a guilty verdict. I wish Casey didn't look so pleased, that "I told you so" smirk is too much to take. Elliot and I hang back to talk to our victim as Casey lurches out of the courthouse and back to her office.

Once we hit the car and head back to the courthouse to gather our things I decide to raise a hypothetical, feeling like I need another opinion about this whole Cabot Investments thing.

"El, I have a… scenario I could use some feedback on."

"Well I'm strictly against any kind of combination last name. Pick one or the other, and none of this making up new last names…" He's teasing, but quickly loses the smile when he realizes I'm serious.

"I've found out some things-- about Cabot Investments."

"What kind of things Liv? Is this the sort of thing I'm going to wish I don't know later on? And why exactly were you snooping around your fiancée's financial affairs?"

"I needed to be armed for dinner with Mrs. Cabot a few weeks ago."

"I thought you said it went well."

"It did, I mean, I guess it did. She's agreed to leave us alone. But she only agreed after I--" I stop, not wanting to admit that I stooped to her level, "after I threatened her with a trip to the Department of Finance, and a call to the IRS."

"Jesus, Liv… what the hell did you find?"

"That's the thing El, I'm not really sure what I found. You know I've got a head like a rock when it comes to money and numbers. It didn't make any sense to me, but the commentary I found when I was digging around was pretty suggestive, so I ran with it. But Elliot, when I saw the look on her face when I mentioned it. I mean, I thought it was a bluff, that's what I told Alex, but El… Juliana was terrified. I don't know what I've found but whatever it is, it's bad."

"So what's the question Liv? Are you asking me if you should dig around more or what? Because I have to say… I mean-- do you really want to be involved in whatever this is? Mrs. Cabot's agreed to leave the two of you alone, so does it really matter anymore?"

I nod. "What do I tell Alex?"

Elliot sighs, "I don't know Liv. I can't tell you what you should or shouldn't tell you fiancée. Alex is smart, she's probably figured out by now that you haven't told her the whole truth about it. She's not the type to let it fall to the wayside. Do you want her to find out on her own-- or would you rather tell her what you know, tell her what you found, then let her decide if she wants to know more?"

"But it's Alex. If she finds something… I mean if this is as bad as I think it is, don't you think this might be a little conflicting for her? She's a lawyer El, you of all people know that she's first and foremost a lawyer. She finds out her mom's involved in some sort of dirty deals, is she going to be able to live with herself if she doesn't get involved? Will she be able to live with herself if she does?"

"Knowledge is power Olivia. Right now, you have it."

"But I don't **know** anything."

"Maybe you should find out."

No. Just… no. "No, I don't want to know anymore than I already do. I feel slimy just looking at that paperwork, and I don't even know what most of it means."

"I guess you just leave it for now. It's nothing that can't stay on ice till Alex is actually back in the city right?"

"Yeah, you're right. At the very least she doesn't need to worry about it now."

We stride into the station house and before I get to my locker to collect my bag a woman walks in covered with dried blood, her eyes glazed and her clothes torn-- so much for getting home early.


	23. Penthouse

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Penthouse**

_Alex_

There's a week and a half before Christmas and I have more to do than I could possibly have time for. Presents are mostly bought, although I debated a bit before buying something for mother, and I've got my suitcase mostly packed. You've been beside yourself at the idea of my being in the city for Christmas, and I was tempted to take you up on your offer to fly out and accompany on the trip but decided you should save the money for apartment hunting when I get back. My things and your things will not fit in that tiny box we've called home until now. With my loft long gone, we're going to have to find a bigger place we can share, preferably a little closer to work.

I have to free myself from a pile of linens, clothes, and sheets to reach the phone on its third ring, barely missing the answering machine's auto-pickup,

"Hey you."

"I'm going to kill Casey." Ooo, it's never good when you begin a conversation with death threats.

"Problems at work?"

"Don't ask. When are you coming back again?"

"February 1st, back in the office and working just for you!"

"Thank god. What's the word on Christmas?"

"I am coming to town on… hold on have to find my ticket…" I dig through the piles around me and haul myself back off of the floor. Finding the tickets in my desk I check the dates, "I get in December. 20th, and I leave on January 3rd."

"That's all? I was hoping you'd be here longer."

"Well so was I, but if I don't get right back I won't get everything moved and settled in by the first of February. Don't forget to pick up some apartment listings before I get back, we **have** to find someplace that will fit all of our combined crap. Maybe a loft like I had before, or at least someplace with a **working** elevator?" I can't keep the excitement from my voice. I realize I sound like a teenager but I can't wait to be back.

"Hey, Lex… how about I pick up the papers and we worry about it when you get here? I'm not going to look without you and for some reason I have a feeling you'll actually be making the apartment decisions."

I figured you'd try to back out of this, "Oh no. No way am I picking out an apartment all by myself. I'd end up picking something you hate and then we'll end up with two apartments again. We're going to pick a place together, after Christmas and before I get back to Oregon. I need a place to send my stuff Liv, and I'd rather not have to rent a storage space."

"So have the van drop stuff at my apartment."

Your apartment? "Olivia, where exactly do you think all my stuff will go in your apartment? Look I know you like the place," although God only knows why, "but we need a bigger place. And besides, you've been hiking up to that fifth floor walk up rat hole for six years! Time for a change."

I hear you groaning but I know I've won, and I can't resist a grin. "Good. Settled. Now, I have packing and sorting to do, unless you want to talk about today's case?"

"No. No way. I just want to forget about it. I'll sum it up in one word- mistrial."

"Sorry Livvy, that's horrible. Is it eligible for retrial?"

"Not criminal. The vic could press charges in civil court but she's not interested. I can't wait until you're back."

_Olivia_

Ugh. I hate apartment shopping. I hate it so much that I've spent six years in a tiny disgusting walk up even when I could finally afford to move up. I can't afford to move as up as you are, but I could have found a place that's a little nicer than mine. However, I can't resist that tone in your voice and I know exactly what look your giving me. Even a continent away I can't resist that blinking blue-eyed thing. Well, that and I have my own plans and for now I need you to think I'm giving in against my better judgment.

. "Good. Settled. Now, I have packing and sorting to do, unless you want to talk about today's case?"

"No. No way. I just want to forget about it. I'll sum it up in one word- mistrial."

"Sorry Livvy, that's horrible. Is it eligible for retrial?"

"Not criminal. The vic could press charges in civil court but she's not interested. I can't wait until you're back." I'm fed up with the latest case, and more than fed up with Casey. She's been a decent friend recently but we've had to swear not to talk about work outside the office. The last time we tried to talk about a case we ended up having a shouting match at Maloney's, that ended when Elliot and Munch pulled us away from each other. I'm ready for her to be gone and you to be back. This latest failure is just the last in a string that's got the whole department feeling down. For some reason, even when Casey wins it's not enough. The victories are hollow, and usually involve lower-sentencing deals, and trades for information that doesn't go as far as it should.

"Well, just a little bit longer and I'll be back driving everyone crazy again."

"I can't wait Alex. And not just because of the job. I miss you." It sounds silly to say, I've only been back three weeks, and you'll be back in town in five days. But the truth is I hate being away from you.

"I know Liv, I miss you too."

Before we hang up you remind me again to pick up the housing pages and I try not to groan again. When we finally say goodbye I pick up the apartment listings I've been looking at all week. It's so much fun to surprise you. I make notes next to the three places I've circled and make a note to make some calls at lunch tomorrow, then set up visits with realtors on Friday when I'm not working. You'll be here on Tuesday and I'd like to have someplace to show you when you get back.

_Alex_

When we hang up I don't bother trying to put the phone back in the cradle. I fold my legs Indian style in the middle of my piles and survey my progress- or lack thereof. This would be so much easier if you were here. Ok, that's a lie. But it's fun to believe. I know what we'd be doing if you were here and it wouldn't involve clothes or sheets. Actually it would, but not in a productive way. I sigh and grab at the sheet that's peeking out of the pile-- I just folded its match before you called and I'm glad to see something that's part of a set finally. Hooray for progress. I dig through the pile to find the rest of the matching bedding and set aside the neatly folded pile in my give-away stack. I work my way through the rest of the mess in front of me until my bedroom is covered with neatly folded piles that I then split into keep and give-away. I feel good, you'd laugh at how much better I feel with a little order restored to the bedroom. The feeling doesn't last long though, as I head to the bathroom to sort through the towel sets. I'd like to get as much taken care of as I can before I leave Tuesday. That way when I get back the majority of my work is finding a mover and actually making the trips to goodwill and the Salvation Army to donate furniture and clothes and all the other stuff I won't be bringing with me. Mostly I can't wait to get rid of those god-awful couches in the living room. I'd much rather we take the sofa I picked out for your apartment with us when we move. I love the things I bought for your place. And if I get rid of most of my furniture it'll be cheaper and faster to move.

I pitch the contents of the bathroom linen closet onto the floor of the bedroom and flip on the little TV, looking for something mindless to watch while I finish my sorting. As soon as I'm done I'm calling it a night. I've been sorting through clothes and towels and sheet sets and odds and ends all evening. Even I'm feeling over-organized. I finish the towels and change into my sweats, crawling deep under the covers to dream about you.

_Olivia_

Thursday's paper reveals two more possible apartments, and my realtor calls go well. Today I have four meet and see's and if all goes well I may even be able to get some Christmas shopping done too.

By noon I've seen three of the four apartments, and done a walk through on two small houses besides. Clearly I'm dreaming on those two, but it was still nice to see. I get a perversely girlish pleasure looking at houses and thinking of the things we could have someday. The truth is that if I let you use as much of your trust fund as you'd like we could afford both of those places, and an apartment besides. I don't want this to be just your thing though, which is one of the reasons I wanted to look for apartments without you. This way I can pick out places I can actually contribute to, instead of getting dragged to upper-West side lofts and fancy flats. I like to think I know enough about your style to find someplace that suits us both, without having to settle for something I can't afford to help with equally.

I buzz the door at the last apartment complex and take a minute to survey the neighborhood. It's fairly low-crime stretch, well for New York anyway. It's closer to the station house than my place, although a little further than your loft was. The realtor who shows me the apartment is a little perky for my taste, and extremely pushy but the apartment is nice enough. It's bigger than mine, but not as large as I'd hoped.

"Well what do you think Miss Benson?"

"Actually, it's Detective Benson. I thought the description said spacious. This looks a little less than spacious to me."

"Well, the penthouse is also up for lease but I don't know if you'd be interested. It's a bit of a fixer-upper."

"How much of a fixer-upper?"

The dyed-blonde woman scrunched up her face, reluctant to come clean.

"I want to see it."

"I don't know detective, it's in pretty bad shape."

"What's the rent?"

"Low because of all the improvements that need to be made. Look, it's an old building. The owner decided to use the penthouse for a storage space and focus on volume. She put out a decent amount to fix up the lower level apartments, and the top floor was pretty well trashed when they went through the heating and cooling system and plumbing."

"I want to see it."

She leads me out of the small third floor apartment and reluctantly punches the button for the top-floor apartment. When she opens the door and stands aside to follow me in I find myself falling in love. She's right; it needs a ton of work. The walls are mostly concrete, except for one exposed cream-colored brick wall on the south side of the master bedroom. There's a huge plate glass window that spans almost the entire width of the living room, and except for a tiny hallway where the elevator and stairs end outside the door, the apartment hits every edge of the complex's outer wall. It's a rare find in the city. The balcony off the east seems to be in good repair, and the fire escapes look up to code.

I turn back to the interior and walk the length of the living room. The floors need to be refinished, and the walls painted. I'll have to replace the light fixtures, and we might need to create some sort of divider between the kitchen space and the living room, but that's a simple enough enterprise. I could probably get Elliot to pitch in some weekend. The master bedroom is massive, bigger than the one that was in your loft and in my apartment combined, and there are two other smaller bedrooms. That makes three bedrooms. We could turn one into an office and keep the other for a guest room, or … whatever.

The realtor is looking nervous; she's clearly an uptown girl and not a big fan of this level of de-construction. She doesn't see the potential in the space, but I do. I know I didn't intend to make an actual offer without you, but I know I can talk the owner down from the asking price, whatever it is. And if I can get a little work done after shifts this week I might be able to show you something a little less rough when you get here.

"I'll take it."

The realtor's face register's vague surprise, then she looks around the space, shaking her head in disbelief. "To each their own Detective. I'll call the owner and give her your offer. I don't think she'll fight. She's anxious to have someone fix up the place."

"Great. I want to start work tomorrow."

Her look of surprise turns to genuine shock, and she picks up her cell-phone, already picturing her commission.

I turn back from where she leans in the doorway and survey our new apartment. Hopefully I can sell it to you before you kill me. Crossing to the large plate glass window that overlooks the city, I don't really think it'll be that hard a pitch.


	24. Need

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Translation**

_Alex_

Monday night I walk through the house, weaving my way through stacks of boxes and shifted furniture. Almost everything that I won't need as soon as I get back is packed up, and on the fifth of January Goodwill is coming to pick up the furniture that I don't want to take with me. Turns out that's most of it, even the bed I can live without. I worked so hard decorating your apartment, picking out a new big bed to replace your tiny twin, and coordinating all the delicious bedding- if we only get one bed, I'd rather we keep yours. I shove aside a few of the boxes in the living room and start a fire in the fireplace. For a minute I sit on the stone hearth, watching the fire catch and grow. I'm excited about my trip, excited about being back in New York for Christmas for the first time in what is it, three years now?

Hopefully you'll let me out of the apartment long enough to finish the Christmas shopping I can only do in the city, and I can only hope that you won't be too resistant when I drag you out of bed on Wednesday to go apartment hunting.

I haven't talked to you much since last Wednesday for some reason. You've sounded so busy when I call, and three of the last four days I've had to find you on your cell phone. You tell me you're Christmas shopping, but I can't remember anyplace you'd shop that's open after eleven on a weeknight. I gave up trying to get details; every question is countered with "It's a surprise."

I move from the hearth and settle into my sofa, probably for the last time. Maybe not, that does sound a bit melodramatic. Still, I can't help but think I will miss this place a bit. It's so beautiful, not that New York isn't beautiful but there's just something about this place, about the peace of being so close to the woods. I almost wish I could live both places, have you here and there. I get up and let the fire die out as I re-check my bags, making sure I haven't missed any of the gifts I've already bought. I've stuffed in some extra clothes to leave at your place so I don't have to box them up later, and everything is packed up nice and tightly. I make sure to set the alarm early, knowing I'll want a shower before I travel. As I fall asleep I clutch your pillow, excited that tomorrow night, I'll actually be clutching you.

_Olivia_

I had to do some fancy talking to convince the complex owner to sign the papers in twenty-four hours, but I was determined to get started on the apartment while I still had a day off. I needed a solid day to do some shopping and get stuff stashed in the penthouse so I could get right to work after my shift on Saturday. Munch was more than happy to give up mornings for the last few days so that I could get out by five pm and over to the apartment to work on the mess. It's in worse shape than I originally thought, and I'm glad I talked the price down as much as I did. After buying the rings, and putting out for the supplies I've bought, my savings are bordering on non-existent and I almost wish I'd waited until you were here to do this. But then I think about the look on your face when you see this place, when you see what I'm doing to it… for us, and I realize the money isn't the issue.

It's almost one am on Monday night before I call it a day. I have to be at work by 8am and I'm exhausted, my arms are heavy from my labors and my knees are aching. But in three days I've managed to almost finish retouching the floor. It still needs a good staining and sealing, but the hardwood already looks better than it did on Friday, and at least in the living room you should be able to see how much potential this space has. I've bought a few supplies to make a half wall between the kitchen and living room. Elliot has agreed to help me next weekend, and I hope I can get away from you long enough to at least the get wall done, and maybe do a little Christmas decorating. If I get all of my work done in time I can give the apartment to you for Christmas.

I stop my sanding and lay flat on my back on the floor, turning my head to look at the lights of the city through the large window to my left. I can't wait for you to see this place, can't wait to watch you decorate it, can't wait see you living here, can't wait to make love to you on this floor, in these rooms. I catch myself falling asleep and force my way up, out the door and back to my apartment, collapsing into bed completely worn out. When my alarm goes off too quickly after I fall asleep I groan, then jump into the shower to wash away the dust and grime and paint that I didn't bother to eradicate before passing out the night before. I really hope you like this place, because otherwise I'm wearing myself to the bone for nothing.

_Alex_

For this trip I booked first class all the way, and fortunately it was a fairly smooth ride. I know you're working so I catch a cab to the apartment, wanting to drop off my overstuffed suitcases and catch a shower before I head over to the station to say hello.

Two hours later I'm unpacked, showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your tees topped off by my own leather jacket. I add on the glasses of justice, not really wanting to deal with my contacts, and knowing the way you react to the sight of those glasses. I decide against a cab, choosing instead to make use of your extra sneakers and enjoy the walk to your work, soaking in my first sights of the city since I was here in February. This time I get to actually be outside, free and unaccompanied. By the time I get to the station it's almost time for you to be off for the day, and I bless New York for being exactly the right distance across. If I'd taken a cab I'd be sitting around waiting for you to be done for another hour. This way I'm just in time to see you gathering your coat from the chair and your keys from your locker.

I see you see me and I swear I fall in love with you every time you get that goofy look on your face. You look tired, and can see bags under your eyes but your face is quickly transformed by an enormous grin, a spark flashing through your eyes as they take on a new light. I can't help the way my heart goes all jumpy at the sight of you. You drop your coat and keys on the desk and rush to my side, wrapping your arms tightly around me as you plant an exuberant kiss on my lips.

As you pull away I look around to meet the amused faces of Elliot, Fin and Munch. Glad to see you're over your issues with public displays of affection.

"Um. Hi guys."

"Alex, nice to uh… see you. You... 'out' for the day Liv?"

"Funny Munch. But yes, I am gone. See you guys tomorrow.'

We leave to a chorus of goodbyes, and you blush as you hear the guys chuckling while we walk out of the bullpen together.

"How was your trip?"

"Not as bad as the last one, but I still don't want to make flight my preferred method of travel. I stopped at the apartment to change and shower and got most of my stuff unpacked. Hey-- where's the rug from the living room? Did you get tired of it or something?"

You look nervous and I wonder what you've been up to. You've been very mysterious the last few days and I can't help but wonder how your missing rug could be tied up in whatever surprise you've been working on.

"No, I just… loaned it to Elliot. Kathy came by the house to get some things and took the living room rug with her. He asked if he could borrow mine until he has a chance to go shopping."

"Riight." It's clearly a lie, but such a cute one I decide to let it go. "So, where are we headed? How about dinner out, my treat?"

"Cho's?"

"Mmmm, no I'm feeling more like... Italian."

You smile, and we catch a cab to Moretti's. It's the first time we've been able to eat at our restaurant since before I left all those years ago. You insist you haven't been back without me, but Tonio still remembers us, and clears out a table in the back room so we can have some privacy.

"My two favorite ladies. You are back from the dead no?"

"Hi Tonio," I lean to kiss his cheek as he points to a newspaper article on the wall. I recognize my photograph from the Times article in February. I laugh and nod and he slaps you on the shoulder,

"Is good to have back your favorite lawyer yes?"

"It's wonderful Tonio. You still remember the order?"

"Of course! Tonio never forgets! I'll bring the wine out myself."

"Ah. Tonio-- no wine. Not anymore."

Tonio smiles, winks and walks towards the kitchen. The food may not be the best, but we always came here for the atmosphere. Something in Tonio's nature makes us feel welcome and at ease in a way we can't be in a lot of places. He has never looked strangely at us for loving each other, and it's nice to find a small quiet place in the city where we can have a romantic evening without getting stared at.

I turn to see you watching me over the candlelit table.

"Hey you."

_Olivia_

Your voice is silky, soft. I've been looking forward to this for weeks-- no months. Let's face it, I love that we can finally be here together without a guard. Sure Agent Hammond turned out to be a decent guy, but I've missed having you to myself in all of our favorite places. I watch you in the flickering candle's reflection. I love the way your face pulls the shadows and light, the way your glasses reflect my own face, your eyes pools of clear blue watching me. How do I always forget just how beautiful you are?

Tonio brings out a hot plate of handmade lasagna, half veggie, and half homemade Italian sausage. One thing's for sure- Tonio never forgets. You reach across the table to snag a bite of my veggie lasagna, and as usual you scrunch up your nose at the taste of spinach and broccoli and I can't help but laugh. You always try it, and you always hate it. I forgot about that. I've forgotten a lot of the little things you do that I love so much. I clear my plate quickly, then watch as you take a piece of bread in your long fingers, sopping up sauce from your plate. You bring the red-tinged roll to your lips and I watch you close your mouth around the bite, savoring the scent and taste of Italian spices, watching your nostrils flare at the scent of oregano, thyme and basil. I watch longingly as you lick the slightest trace of sauce from your fingers, then throw money on the table, pulling you from your seat and outside to a waiting cab. I want you home. Now.

_Alex_

I feel more than I see you watching me. It's for your benefit that I take my time soaking a roll in sauce and then close my lips around the last bite, feeling the warmth of the bread and sauce and spice fill my mouth, my nose. When I open my eyes you've thrown money on the table and you reach for my hand, pulling me urgently into a cab outside. I can see by the look in your eyes that my little tactic worked, and as you pull me into a kiss I ignore the cabby's stare in the mirror and enjoy the feeling of your tongue claiming my lips, my mouth.

I barely notice when the cab stops in front of your apartment, and you lead me from the car and into the apartment, pushing me up against the door, pulling at my clothes, plunging one hand down the undone zipper of my jeans, smiling around my mouth as you discover I'm not wearing any underwear. You pull away from my and raise your eyes to mine. You tease me with one finger, playing along my opening, and I feel my body react, heat rising from the bottom up. I take your wrist and pull your hand away, then pull away from your kiss. You look disappointed, and I wag my finger at you.

I start to walk away from you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind me as I walk into the bedroom. I sit you on the bed and step away, teasing you with a slow and only slightly awkward shedding of my clothes. I see you start to laugh, and I stop your teasing giggles with my mouth. I pull off your clothes between kisses, my hands electrified as I touch your bare skin. When you're finally freed from your clothes I kneel over your lap, feeling your legs between mine, pulling your body to me. I bury my head in your shoulder, wrapping my arms around you and resting with you there before I raise my head and get lost in your eyes, a place I know so well that even when I'm lost I feel like I've been found. You reach to pull my left hand from behind you and lace our fingers together, our silver rings lying side by side.

_Olivia_

Your eyes drop, staring at our rings, side by side on interwoven fingers. I've been quiet, enjoying the feel of you next to me, on top of me. Enjoying the way your skin feels on mine. It's been less than a month but it feels like forever. When you lift your eyes back to mine I reach out with my right hand to stroke the hair back from your face, leaving my palm resting on your cheek.

"God I love you. Have I told you that lately?"

You grin and I melt as the corners of your mouth turn into those elusive dimples. "Not in the last hour or so. But right now, I'd really rather you showed me."

"mmm I'd be happy to." I shift your body off of mine, laying you gently on the bed below me. I kiss you again, less urgently this time. I lay my hand at your breast, gently stroking this softest skin. I feel your nipple harden at my touch, and I crook my finger, tracing your roundness with the back of my knuckle. I move my hand so that I'm cupping you, my thumb playing with your nipple, feeling gooseflesh rise on your skin. I guide your left hand with mine, still wrapped together, down between us. Your fingers untangle from mine and play lazily between my legs, before I feel you move gently beyond these other lips, even as your tongue finds my mouth above us. I mimic your motions, gently parting you with my fingers, remembering the way inside you, moaning into your mouth as your fingers slip into my wetness, my arousal leaving you no resistance as you begin a slow and delicious rhythm that I match with my own hand, my own fingers.

Together we move towards the edge, then back… wanting to make this last, wanting to prolong the moment. As my mouth leaves yours and I trail soft kisses down the delicate line of your jaw and into the hollow of your neck you moan, increasing the speed of your hand below me. I nip at your skin, leaving the barest trace of a mark at the nape of your neck. You moan again, and I hear you whisper my name as I bring my face level with yours, playing with my fingers inside of you, crooking my knuckles just so-- finding that fleshy spot inside, even as my thumb seeks your swollen clit. I feel you mirroring me, and I whisper against you,

"God Alex… I need… I need…" I don't have to finish the thought, you pull me to you, meshing our bodies together as closely as we can be as you turn your fingers inside me the way only you know how, and I feel myself contract around you, feel a rush of warmth and liquid spreading over your fingers, now still inside me. I try not to get carried away, wanting to return the favor before I collapse completely in your embrace. I quicken my rhythm, my thumb brushing purposefully against your clit and I feel you shift, closing around my fingers, sense the same wetness from you coating my own hand as I move, rolling onto the bed next to you, my hand still dangling softly between the v of your legs, stroking idly against your thighs as you sigh contentedly.

You turn your head to look at me, and I smile at the satisfied glaze in your eyes. I decide I'd like a little something more and I place a chaste kiss on your lips before moving my tired body down in the bed, leading the way with kisses against your soft white skin until I'm looking up at you from the place where my hands have only just finished playing. You're tired, worn, but still your body bucks as I place my tongue on the inside of your thigh, tracing the line of your juices back up, cleaning the mess my fingers left behind. You reach your ringed hand back down, caressing the top of my head, tangling in my hair as I gather your wetness on my tongue.

I can feel your arousal building anew, and I love that I have this power over you. I look up to see you watching me and I pause, waiting for direction. You nod and I dip my head back to you, gently parting your lips with my fingers, plunging my tongue inside you as you squirm, drawing me deeper. When you come for the second time your body settles heavily in the bed, and even as tempted as I am to try for a third I shift back, lying next to you and wrapping my arm across your body, pulling your almost limp form to me kissing your now lazy lips as you try to smile.

I move my body, turning and digging into the bed until I'm tucked against you, my head resting on your shoulder, your chin a comforting weight against my hair.

"In case you didn't quite catch the translation counselor, I love you."


	25. Christmas in the City

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Christmas in the City**

_Alex_

It takes me a minute to remember where I am in the morning. Of course once I do it takes no time to remember how I got here, or what I did last night. Your side of the bed is empty and I know you probably tried to wake me before you left for work. The jelly in my legs and the heaviness of my arms is further reminded of last night's activity. I stretch my arms slowly over my head and feel a smile crawling across my lips. As I feel my body becoming a little more… solid, I turn to find an iris on your pillow next to me. I swear no one would ever believe how much of a romantic you are. I pull the blossom to my lips, breathing in its fragrance. You can keep your roses and carnations, I'll take an iris any day. I try to convince my body to move and feel a twinge of hunger.

Hauling myself out of bed I stumble lazily into the kitchen and open the fridge to find a bowl of pancake batter waiting for me with a note.

"A-

Thought you might be hungry. Please don't burn down the stove. Medium heat on the griddle until cooked. Stir it up a bit and it should be perfect. Blueberries in the fruit drawer, chocolate chips in the cupboard.

Love,

O."

I grin, not bothering to take offense at the implication that I can't cook. It's true that I set my own stove on fire, but I'm much more careful at your apartment. Besides, how badly can I screw up pancakes?

An hour later I have two edible pancakes and one slightly singed potholder. I throw away the slightly distorted spatula and light a candle to help dispel the scent of burnt plastic. Ok, no more cooking for me. At least I didn't actually set anything on fire. Well- other than the potholder, but that was so minimal. I'm never going to live this down. I'm just fishing up my breakfast when the phone rings.

"Is my apartment still standing?"

"Very funny." I pitch the black corned potholder into the trash with the spatula and make a note to buy a new one before you get home from work. I clean up the remaining mess and move to the bathroom, dropping your terry robe on the floor as I step into a hot shower. When I'm washed and dressed and my hair once again resembles something other than a rat's nest I call for a cab and head downstairs. Two hours later I'm back at the apartment with a stack of realty pages, a new spatula and potholder, a new rug and a present for you. I lay the new rug out in the living room, and am disappointed that it doesn't go as well as I anticipated. Oh well, it'll do until we have a new apartment to put it in. With that thought I spread out the papers and guides on the table next to my cup of decaf coffee. If I'd looked in the cupboard before I left I'd have known to buy some regular beans. I wonder if you'll ever let me go back to regular or if you're going to spend the rest of our lives being worried about one little tick of my heart.

I flip through one paper, then another, circling properties and making notes until I hear your distinctive footfalls outside the door. I hurry to make sense of my piles, pitching the useless papers into the trash and stretching the stiffness from my limbs as I go to meet you at the door.

"Hey baby, how was your day?"

"Slow, thankfully. We ended up doing paperwork most of the day, finished up a couple of cases, and testified for Casey about an hour ago. You know I almost don't even care if she wins anymore."

You scrub a hand through your hair and tip your head up for a kiss.

"What have you been up to?" You sniff the air and grin, "How were your pancakes? Is that a vanilla candle? Oh lord, how many spatulas did you melt this time?"

I look at you over the top of my glasses and cuff you gently upside the head.

"Just one. -- And a potholder. But both have been replaced, as has the living room rug. You ready to look at some apartment listings? You have off tomorrow right? So we can do some hunting around the precinct? I found a couple of decent-sounding places right near the station, and a few a little further out, but still within easy walking distance from the courthouse and the station."

_Olivia_

Well, I expected you to want a quick start to apartment shopping, but I was really hoping that this weekend I could find a way to leave you to your own devices so Elliot and I can work on getting things put together at the penthouse. I have Christmas decorations to buy, and I have to get the floor finished, at least in the living room. I try not to pause too long before answering dismissively, "Actually, I promised Elliot I'd help him out at his new place this weekend. Sorry Lex, I promised before I knew you'd be here for Christmas." The lie leaves my lips easily enough, but I hate to do it-- especially when I see the look on your face.

"I guess I'll look without you then. Unless I can help at the apartment."

"Nope, construction type stuff. He wants me to help him refinish the floors. Trust me, you'd hate it." Ok, so it's not exactly a lie.

"Well fine, I'll look for apartments and finish up my Christmas shopping. OH! By the way I got you something." You disappear into the kitchen and return with something clasped in your closed hand.

"Turn around."

I spin around, and feel you taking off the little gold necklace you gave me all those years ago. "What are you doing? That's…" I feel a new weight, a similar heft on my neck. I look down to see an almost identical necklace, in silver.

"What's this?"

"I thought it went better with your ring. Gold and silver together are so over. I wanted you to match."

I lift the delicate rectangular charm, fingering the engraving. It's different than the old one. "What does it say?"

"The back still has our initials, but now the front reads, 'bonheur éternel'. It seemed… appropriate."

"Eternal Bliss. Very appropriate. Thank you." I turn back to face you and wrap my arms around you. "Have I mentioned yet that I love you?"

"Not while I was awake."

"Well then, I love you."

"Good. Ready for a little quid pro quo?"

I lift my eyebrows, "What?"

"I believe I owe you a little… favor from last night?" You wink and lead me back to the bedroom. I could definitely get used to this kind of greeting after work.

_Alex_

By the time Christmas Eve rolls around I'm starting to get a little annoyed. You've spent most of your time of at Elliot's new apartment, which I have yet to see and I've spent far more of this visit on my own than I'd like. I try to stay chipper as I look at apartment after apartment, wishing you'd get involved. I don't want to make any offers without you, but I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to get you away form Elliot's home repair projects and out to help me find a place.

I take a cab out to Long Island in the morning on the 24th, stopping at the house to leave the gift I bought for mother in Oregon. Today I'm a little relieved you wanted to spend the day helping Elliot build a wall or whatever it is you two are doing, because I know you wouldn't want me to go to Cabot Castle at all, much less without your protection.

When George lets me in I wander through the house, waiting for mother to finish her business call. The butler has informed me curtly that mother will be at least half an hour, and I take the time to head up the sweeping staircase, turning the handle of the door to my childhood bedroom. I step inside and examine the space with my adult eyes, with my engaged to be married eyes, with my someday I may be a mother eyes. It's too fancy for a child, too fancy even for a teenager. The walls are the palest trace of pink, not cotton candy but more of an elegant crystal pink. The furniture is handcrafted, delicate and fanciful. I move to my desk, looking at the notebooks that line the matching bookcase. Even as a kid I was obsessed with books, writing. My shelves are lined with true-crime novels, murder mysteries and a few of my legal texts from college. I pick up the framed photograph of mother and I from my Harvard Graduation ceremony. I stare at my mothers face, lit with pride as I hold my law-school diploma up for the camera. Trevor stands in the background making faces as the flash snaps. I search my mother's face for a trace of the cold stranger she became after daddy died, of the heartless woman she became when I feel in love with you.

I jump at the touch on my shoulder, and turn to see her steel blue eyes staring me down as I wipe a tear from my cheek.

"What do you want Alexandra? This isn't a good time." Her voice is cold, and I don't know why I'm surprised. I didn't expect her to welcome me with open arms.

"I just… I wanted to bring you your Christmas present."

"Olivia let you buy me a gift? How generous of her. How much did she have to drink when you asked for permission?"

I struggle to control the flash of anger that crosses my consciousness. I take a deep breath and respond calmly,

"Olivia doesn't drink anymore mother, you know that. And I don't need her permission to buy a gift. She doesn't control my life mother, she complements it. Not that you'd know, or care."

Her gaze is firm, icy and she regards me unblinkingly.

"Very well Alexandra, what is it you couldn't resist giving me?"

I'm not ready for that. I hold up the picture, turning slightly away from her again to look around at the artwork on my walls. "Do you remember this day mom? Do you remember when I graduated and you made daddy take this picture? How he wanted one of all three of us and you said he'd have to wait because mothers and daughters came before anyone else in the world?

"Look at the picture mother, look at your face, the way you were looking at me." My voice cracks, "when did you stop seeing me that way? Was it really all because of Liv? Or did it happen before that? You knew what I was before I did, didn't you? Isn't that when it started? When you finally realized I wasn't going to fall for Trevor?"

I turn back to see surprise and then dismay register in her eyes.

"Did you think I wouldn't remember mother? The way you nearly disowned me when I refused Trevor's advances? Do you remember when I came to you, told you he'd tried to force himself on me? Do you remember what you said mother?"

She has the good sense to look ashamed, a blush crawling over her alabaster cheeks.

"**I** remember mother. You told me I should feel lucky. That not every woman could find as promising a man as Trevor Langan. He practically raped me, until I kneed him in the balls, and you told me I should feel lucky." I can't help the tears that start to spill over, remembering something I've pushed back for almost ten years. My mother stretches out a hand, trying to make contact as I whip out of her reach. "Don't you dare. Don't you ever touch me. You gave up the right to touch me a long time ago. You can't decide to stop being my mother and then change your mind because you feel guilty. It doesn't work like that." I know I'm getting worked up and I want to stop, to calm down. I want to face her like a rational person but memory and anger and pain floods through me, and I feel myself tumbling down a hill of emotion with my brake lines cut. Now that I've started I can't stop.

"When did you figure it out mom? When did it first occur to you that I wasn't going to meet a nice guy and settle down? It was before Olivia wasn't it? Why didn't you just talk to me, instead of pretending it wasn't happening, making me struggle through it on my own? Do you know how scared I was when I figured out why I didn't like Trevor, aside from the fact that even as a teenager he was a total sleaze. It was more than that wasn't it? You knew there was more, that it wasn't that I didn't like Trevor, it was that I didn't like men. Why didn't you ask me… talk to me? I was miserable for years, confused. I worked my ass off trying to make you proud, to make you happy. The whole time I was flipping out up here, pacing around my room trying to tell myself I wasn't feeling the things I was feeling.

"I needed you. I needed my mother. I needed **her**." I jab at the picture of my smiling, supportive mother before throwing the frame and photo across the room, listening to the crackling glass as it hits the wall.

I pause my raving, sitting on the edge of my old bed letting my tears wash over me. When I regain some semblance of control I speak again, "When I met Olivia, I was so happy. Happy because finally there was someone else like me, not just that but there was someone else like me who… loved me. The first night, when I called you after Olivia went home I wanted to tell you about her, wanted to tell you about how I finally felt normal again. I wanted you to be happy for me, for us. But I knew somehow that you wouldn't be." I scoff, "Isn't it sad? How well I knew, even without asking."

I feel my tears stopping, my breath returning. "You know, I don't know why I came here. What was I hoping to accomplish? Here's your gift mother. I don't… I don't actually care if you like it."

I turn and flee the room, anxious to put this visit behind me. As I hit the top of the stairs I turn, peering back to see my mother sit heavily on the bed the package forgotten on the pillow. She leans and picks the photo from the floor, brushing carefully at broken glass. I shift, turning on the ball of my foot and watch her pull the photo from the frame, and I swear I can see tears falling from her eyes. I wish I could say I felt softened by this sudden emotion, but to me it just seems too little too late. I finish my exit, and call a cab from my cell phone, wanting to get back home, back to you. Wanting to put this behind me and move on. Why do I keep subjecting myself to this?

Maybe this time I'll be able to give it up for good. Take your advice and look forward instead. Of course that would work a lot better if you'd actually go apartment hunting with me. I shove my mother out of my mind and head home preparing arguments to get you out and shopping with me after Christmas. I'm surprised to find you waiting for me when I get back to your apartment. You're dressed in the slacks I gave you for your birthday, and an actual blouse… wait-- are you wearing a suit? I don't have time to scrutinize as you slip a blindfold over my eyes.

_Olivia_

I grin as you walk in the door and begin to register that I'm wearing a suit. I don't give you time to ask about it though, quickly wrapping the silky blindfold around your eyes. You make a surprised squeak and I can't suppress a laugh at your momentary distress.

"What on earth are you doing?"

I place a finger against your lips, making a shushing sound. "It's a surprise."

I guide you through the apartment to the bedroom, and I see a lustful grin spread across your lips as I start to unbutton your pants. I know what you think is happening and I'm getting no end of amusement drawing out this event. You shiver slightly as the cool air meets your skin, and as I lift your arms over your head you quiver, expecting something you aren't going to get. I try not to laugh out loud at your disappointed chirp as you feel a dress sliding over your head and brushing against your skin. Its satiny fabric flows and stretches perfectly around you, flaring and clinging around your curves in a perfect complement to your natural beauty.

I sit you on the bed and peel the socks from your feet, pausing to gently massage your tired soles before I strap on slinky sandals. Your feet will be a little cold while we go to our destination, but I've got the heat working perfectly so once we're there you should be fine. I wrap my heaviest leather coat around your shoulders, guiding your arms through the sleeves then pulling you onto your feet and leading you back towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you… it's a surprise." You clutch my arm with your free hand, nervous about this lack of control. I'm careful with you, treating you gingerly as I lead you to the elevator which is mercifully functional for once. You make a few more half-assed attempts to ruin the surprise but I'm not budging, not even when you make a particularly tempting move involving your tongue and my earlobe that nearly weakens my resolve.

Luckily for me the elevator doors slide open to reveal a waiting Elliot, who has been kind enough to offer us a ride to the penthouse, in addition to have spent most of the last three days helping me prepare this surprise. He's worked his butt off, even chipping in some cash when I ran embarrassingly low during my last paint run. There's still a lot to do, but I was determined to at least have the common areas, living room, kitchen, one bathroom mostly finished by now. For the most part I've succeeded, although there's still a lot to do. Still I have enough done that I think you'll see what I saw when I looked at it the first day. We've accomplished a lot in five short days, and I'm proud of the work I've done, the work Elliot and I have done.

My partner drives in silence as agreed, and I can feel you sitting tensely beside me in the backseat. I give your hand a squeeze and catch Elliot grinning at us in the rearview. I smile back and mouth a thank you as he drops us at the complex doors.

"Don't move." I take my hand away so I can unlock the door, then reclaim your hand and lead you to the elevator (which is always working). When we reach the top floor I plant you in the hallway, outside the door. I unlock our newly repainted door and open it, tossing my keys in my pocket before I lead you inside. I position you in the middle of the living room, the space redefined after the addition of the separator wall between it and the kitchen. When you're standing exactly where I want you, your face turned towards the large window I kiss you gently on the lips, then whisper, "Close your eyes."

I gently take off the blindfold, cupping my hand over your eyes just in case, as I move to the side-- wanting to be able to see you as you get your first view of our new home.

_Alex_

"Close your eyes." You whisper breathily in my ear as your hand replaces the satiny fabric of my blindfold over my lidded eyes. You shift to the side of me, and I wonder what sight is going to greet me when I'm finally allowed to look again. I figured you must have rented a special hotel room, or that maybe we've gone back to Tonio's for a special dinner.

"Ok, open."

I blink against the dim yellow light, and realize I'm staring out of an enormous window overlooking most of New York City. In the early winter darkness I'm left breathless at the twinkling cityscape, and it takes me a minute to look somewhere other than the window. I turn my head, away from where you stand beside me, taking in the large wood-floored room, turning to look at the slate blue walls and beautiful architecture.

"What is this?" I finally turn to see you, noticing the tears that are welling in your eyes. Happy tears?

You take my hand and lead me back out the door, closing it and pointing to the nameplate, a beautiful silver plaque that reads, "Cabot & Benson. Apt. 500"

"It's our new apartment."

"What? Liv, this place is… it's huge. How on earth did you get the money for this place?"

"It's a fixer-upper. They knocked quite a bit off of the asking bid and lowered the rent when they heard all the improvements I was going to make." You lead me back inside and gesture to the floor, the walls. "You should have seen these on Friday when I signed the lease. You'll get an idea of it when you see the other rooms. I would have liked to have it all finished when you got here but I couldn't wait to show it to you."

Suddenly the last few days make a lot more sense. "So this is what you've been doing?" I notice our little blue rug in the kitchen. "So you weren't helping Elliot, he was helping you."

You nod and I watch a proud smile grace your lips. "What do you think?"

"Olivia it's… amazing. I love it. How did you do all of this without me? It's perfect!"

"I knew, as soon as the realtor let me in I just knew it was the perfect space." You take my hand and lead me around the apartment on a tour. I watch you getting more and more excited as you show me all the features of the space. The kitchen is as impressive as the living room and I can't believe you've managed to get us this place. It's an incredibly rare find in the city, spacious and interesting, with amazing character, even before the improvements are all finished. I'm so taken with the apartment itself that I don't notice the tree at first. There's a massive fir in one corner of the living room, across from our beautiful working fireplace, another rare find. The tree is lit with tiny white lights and draped with elegant blue ribbon and delicate silver balls. Like everything else in the room it's beautiful, the blue ribbon matching perfectly with the blue-toned walls.

I reach to pull you into me as I kiss you deeply in appreciation.

"I love it, and I love you." We sink into each other's mouths, playing for dominance as you lead me into the master bedroom, the last stop on our tour. Lit candles line the room and in the center is a small stack of down comforters surrounded by scattered rose petals. You start to guide me down below you, but tonight it's my turn to show you my appreciation.

_Olivia_

I watch you taking in this place, watch you falling in love with the place I've picked for us. I'm not surprised, but I do have a momentary feeling of intense relief. I wasn't aware I was nervous about your reaction until I saw it. But I watch as you turn, taking in the walls and the floor and this incredible view, I watch as tears well in your own eyes, your surprise and pleasure and contentment spreading through your face, making your lips turn, your eyes shine.

You pull me into your body and kiss me deeply.

"I love it, and I love you."

I lead you back to the master bedroom, the one room I've kept closed during our tour. I've taken special care to make this space feel warm and romantic despite it's size. The pale brick glows with the candlelight and the scent of roses fills the air. I start to sink down on top of you on the soft mess of comforters I've laid out but you stop me, turning so that you rest above me, pulling my arms from my coat and unbuttoning my shirt, kissing your way down my neck and chest as you reveal my uncovered breasts, my naked skin waiting for your touch.

You kiss my belly button, then free me from my slacks and gently tease my panties from my hips, trailing kisses down my leg from my thigh to my ankle, and I point my toes at the softness of your lips on my body. You crouch above me, and cross your arms, grabbing at the hem of your dress and pulling it smoothly over your head, casting it carefully aside, making sure you don't set anything ablaze accidentally. Now naked you lean over me, your breasts brushing against mine as your lips find mine, and your tongue plays with mine delicately, dancing inside my mouth. You shift your body so that your on your hands and knees above me, and the sight of you hovering above me brings a familiar wetness to my thighs as you place one knee against the source of my heat. I moan as you shift again slightly, the pressure of your knee between my legs a delicious torment, an exquisite complement to the feeling of your breasts that hang heavily against mine below you. I move my body, trying to find a deeper contact with the knee I'm straddling.

You smile against our kiss and modify your body's position so that your resting more comfortably above me, your knee moving away from the place where my legs meet, replaced at last by the hand that's been moving slowly down my body. I moan as you finally place a finger against my opening, stroking gently against the outside of my center until I groan, needing more. You grin, pulling away from my lips and looking into my eyes.

"Is there a problem, Detective?" Your voice is light, taunting… and I moan again, needing something other than teasing.

"Please Alex… touch me."

Your hand makes another run along my slit and I shiver, "I am touching you. See…" You trace a long line up, carefully steering just clear of my clit, allowing your fingers to play further up, tweaking my now-hard nipple before moving back to rest between my legs once again, using the back of your hand to brush against my sex.

"Lexi…" my voice is strained, barely a whisper against your skin. My need is painful and I don't know how much longer I can wait. "god Alex, please."

You kiss me again, plunging your tongue forcefully into my mouth, mimicking the motions I wish you'd take below and using them instead against my lips, my tongue. Your hand rests still painfully close without giving any relief. I squirm under you, trying to shift my body down, trying to force your hand inside me, but you pull away again, and break our kiss.

There's a flood of pleasure in your eyes, and your lust is obvious, but still you tease. "Please what Livvy?"

We've played this game before and my line escapes my lips without effort, "fuck me." My body jumps beneath you as you finally press yourself beyond my folds, the sudden warmth of your hand, your fingers inside of me bringing on the first wave of release, the sudden relief of your long soft fingers stroking inside me making my body buck in pleasure, my moan stolen from my lips as you mirror the motions with your tongue, once more claiming my mouth. Your hand is still, giving me a moment to recover from my orgasm before you begin moving inside me, reaching and tickling against my walls, your thumb finally finding my swollen clit as my breath catches in my throat, this sudden ecstasy stealing oxygen from my lungs. I move my hand, trying to reach between our bodies to touch you, to sink into you but you stop me, moving out of my reach as you slide down the length of my body, your hair tickling my skin even as your lips trace an hasty line towards the place where your hand moves more quickly inside me, and I struggle to control myself as I approach a second breech. Suddenly your mouth is working with your fingers, the heat of your breath bringing words again to my lips without effort,

"Jesus Alex. Don't stop please… just… don't stop."

You place a kiss on my shaven skin and then withdraw your fingers, replacing them with your tongue as I lose control for the second time, this time letting my head get lost in the sensation of my orgasm, feel heat surging through my body as I lose track of how many times you bring me over the edge… again and again and again.

I'm not sure when I fell asleep, but I wake to the scent of extinguished candles and turn my head to see you sleeping heavily next to me, a ridiculously lecherous grin left on your lips. I don't bother trying to move, my body is done… at least until tomorrow. I bring my watch up in front of my eyes, seeing that it's actually Christmas morning, if only by a minute. I turn back and whisper into your hair,

"Merry Christmas Alex."


	26. Reconciled

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Reconciled**

_Alex_

Christmas is over too soon, and I have to admit that besides the fact that I'm absolutely in love with our new place, it's nice not to have to stress over apartment hunting while I'm here. Instead I've spent the evenings watching you work on our apartment, struggling most nights not to interrupt your progress with my rather... physical desires. Some nights are harder than others, for some reason the sight of you finishing the floors, or working under the kitchen sink is irresistible. I love this masculine side of you, I got a glimpse of it when I was redoing your apartment, but it was limited to the putting up of one curtain rod. Here in your tank top, low-slung jeans held up with a boyish belt you look so... what is that word? Butch. I smile, that's it exactly. I love this butch Liv. **My** butch Liv.

New Years eve was nice, and although I'm not sure how you convinced Fin to take your shift I loved having the whole day with you before we celebrated with the guys at Maloney's. And now here we are again, the night before I go away, again. Only now I have a definitive date of return-- and a place to come back to besides. I sit on a counter in our new kitchen, sipping sparkling cider from a wineglass and watching you wield a wrench under the sink. With a satisfied grunt you emerge, greasy and coated in sweat.

"Try it now!"

I lean over and pull the faucet up. Success! Water flows easily, and for once, quietly from the spigot. You stick your head back under the sink and this time I don't hear any sputtering.

"You did it!"

"Don't sound so surprised!"

"Well, you're not exactly a plumber." You emerge once more and hop up on the counter next to me, stealing my glass and taking a sip.

"I thought you said I could do anything." You twist your face into a look of affected injury, and I kiss you chastely on your cheek.

"You can. I just didn't think that included things that would otherwise require a professional."

"I am a professional."

"Reading the manual four times and talking to the guy at the hardware store for half an hour does not an expert make. As evidenced by the flood we had to clean up only an hour ago, or did you forget about that when you dropped the wrench on your forehead?"

I kiss the goose egg that's already turning all kinds of fun purple tones below your hairline. You raise your hand to the bump and hand me back my glass, now empty. I swallow the last tiny drops and set it aside, sliding off the counter and turning to face you as you wrap your legs around me. You lean your head down to kiss me and I feel you shift your body to turn off the water.

"So, what now?" I break our kiss and you look down at me with that chocolate gaze.

"Well, there's the bathroom counter that still needs to get grouted, and I could probably finish painting around the edges in here, and I need to check the baseboards in the office and make sure the vents are working now and..." I stop your list with a kiss... home repair wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

_Olivia_

Back in our now half-furnished bedroom you place a gentle kiss on the lump that's growing from my forehead. I hate to think how it'll look in the morning, and I try not wince at your tenderness. You settle in the bed next to me and I brush the hair back from your face. I like that you've continued to let it grow, and not just because I get a kick out of seeing your hair in those funky low slung pigtails while we paint. The added length gives an extra elegance to your features, an almost princess-quality to those incredible eyes and that delicate nose.

"Have I mentioned lately how beautiful you are?"

You blush and I smile, I love how you can still feel shy around me. "You are you know? The first time I saw you I just... couldn't stop staring. The line of your neck, the set of your jaw. The way your nose flares when you get angry. I remember the first time I saw you get really mad. Your eyes turned into ice and I just stared at you, trying not to lick my lips, trying not to let anyone see what that look did to me. And the first time I saw you smile-- really smile, not that fake for the jury smile. I thought I was going to fall through the floor, that I was going to melt into a puddle. I have never met anyone as beautiful as you are.

"And I had you memorized, knew your features, knew the shape of your face, the color of your eyes, the turn of your lips. And then when you came back in February, I thought for a while that you looked different, as if you'd turned into a different person while you were gone. The first night we were together again, when you were finally naked, when I finally got to see you, to touch you. And you were different, but not. Your skin was familiar to my fingers, the map of your body the same, but the topography had changed. You were fuller, livelier, healthier."

You're still fit, well toned, but there's a ... fleshiness to you now that's so deliciously feminine. Your blush turns a deep red, you've mentioned a few times that you felt like you were starting get a little pudgy, a little soft, and I want you to know how I see you... how much I appreciate the difference, how beautiful I find this new you.

I trace the curve of your body, the gentle rise of your breast. I cup a hand around your hips, "beautiful." I kiss you deeply, my lips lingering on yours, as I move my hand along your body, along this newer softer you. I love the fullness of your face, the way your features have softened from some of their previous sharpness.

"I love you. I love the old you, the new you, the you you'll be in five years... in ten... in twenty." I nibble at your neck; my hand finding it's way back to your breast, appreciating the roundness there. Your body arches to my touch and your flush changes from embarrassment to heat, the way I knew it would.

_Alex_

Morning is warm in our new apartment, and I'm glad my flight isn't until this afternoon, even if it means I don't get back to Oregon until late tonight. You're still sleeping, enjoying not having to be up for an early shift, taking full advantage of this day off. I know you're going to spend your weekend finishing up work on the penthouse so I let you sleep instead of waking you up for a repeat of last night's fun. I brush away the whips of hair that fell over your forehead and take a closer look at the now purple bruise below your almost-bangs.

It looks painful, and angry, and I trace a finger around it-- careful not to put any pressure on the actual bruise. I plant a soft kiss on the smooth skin next to the bump, and as your arm moves sleepily over my hips I smile and blush, thinking of last night's conversation. Somehow every time we're together I end up feeling shy. Why do you always go to the beautiful thing? Growing up I was always too lanky to be called beautiful, too bony and sharp-edged to be considered feminine. Mostly it never bothered me. It meant I didn't get asked out a lot in high school, which was fine with me. In college I was too busy studying to have much of a social life. The few times I did manage to go out, the one time I put together some sort of relationship with a man it was awkward, and most of the time unpleasant. I never had anyone tell me I was beautiful, never had anyone tell me I was anything other than a brain.

Trevor was just a classic example of a short line of failed relationships. He might have lasted longer if he hadn't tried to rape me. Ok, I guess it wasn't so much rape as it was that he didn't understand the word no. You stir in your sleep and I watch you smile as your body sighs and wiggles closer to mine, still unconscious and dreaming of something undoubtedly more pleasant than my current line of thought.

I've told you a little about Trevor, about how mom pushed me towards him, wanted us to make a life together. She loved the idea of having Trevor as a son-in-law, regardless of the fact that he made me ill. All those years together growing up, Langan and Cabot luncheons, and then having to compete against him in law school, the horrendous internship at his father's law firm. The last person I wanted to date was Trevor. But as you know, it's hard to say no to mother even when she's in the process of ruining your life, so when Trevor called for the first time and asked me to dinner I said yes.

Our first date was a lot like our second, and our third, and our fourth. We'd get dressed up, go to a Cabot-Langan approved restaurant (in other words high-brow with good wine and bland food), then I'd wait patiently while he kissed me on the front porch before returning to my law books. Each night mother would come to my room, talking up Trevor's accomplishments (as if I hadn't been there for all of them and bested him at everything) and then 'encourage' me to accept his offer of another date. We'd been going out for almost a month when he started putting the moves on me. Disgustingly classic high school stuff, an arm around the chair at the movies, a hand on my knee at dinner? desserts used as excuse to touch my lips, hugs that lasted longer than they should have. I managed to put off sex for almost three months of awkward dates. We had dinner then went to see the newest Grisham novel turned film, and instead of taking me home we'd ended up at Trevor's family-bought brownstone.

I went in for a drink; sat uncomfortably on his sofa and waited for the lunge I knew was coming. When it did I played along for a bit. I didn't object when he pushed his tongue past my lips, when his hand mashed unceremoniously at my breasts. I didn't object when he undid my shirt, pulled roughly at the closure of my bra. I didn't object when his hand slid up my skirt, when his other hand reached for the buttons, the zipper. When he moved to push his hand inside my panties I tensed, pulled away. Came to my senses. I grabbed for my shirt as Trevor protested,

"Come on Alex. Don't be shy now."

"Let go Trevor, I want to go." His right hand tightened around my wrist as he shifted his body, trapping my between his legs as his left hand returned to my underwear.

"You know you like it. Besides, isn't this what everyone wants? For you and I to get together, get married, have babies. Well, let's just get started shall we?"

I struggled to keep my dinner down as he licked a slimy line up my neck. My hand still clenched my shirt, covering my bare breasts awkwardly as Trevor's left hand moved to pull down my panties.

"Let go Trevor. Stop." As his rough finger reached my slit I took the only chance I could see-- I raised my leg and brought my knee up to meet his groin. Shocked, he whipped back both hands and grabbed at the source of his pain. I quickly left the couch and started flinging my clothes back onto my body.

"Jesus Alex. All you had to do was say no." He rubbed awkwardly at his crotch, anger flashing in his eyes.

"That's funny, I thought I did." I was equally angry, probably more so and feeling predatory to boot. "What on earth gave you the idea that you could just... make me sleep with you? What part of 'stop and let go' didn't you understand Langan?"

"Fuck you, you uptight over-educated bitch."

"You wish."

He moved back to his liquor cabinet, quickly swallowing a finger of scotch before turning back to me. I cut off his coming tirade with something I knew he'd understand-- legal speak.

"Tell you what Trevor, I'll make you a deal. I won't press charges for attempted rape if you agree to leave me the fuck alone. That means that you stay the hell away from me, my life, and my home. And I'd appreciate a little more respect at the office too. In case you've forgotten, you're an intern too. I know it's your daddy's law firm but I think you can find someone else to do your grunt work from here on out. And should you ever forget any of these conditions, or feel yourself slipping back into bad habits-- I'll happily remind you of two words: attempted. rape. Not something that looks good when you're applying for jobs as a defense attorney."

I turned on my heel and marched from the room, shoving my bra in my bag and buttoning the last button on my shirt as I hit the street, hailing a cab and seething in the backseat all the way home. When I slammed my way into the house I was in no mood for my mother's pecking, and by the time I made it into my bedroom and collapsed on my bed it hits me that some people would consider what Trevor did only a step away from an actual crime, something I hadn't really thought about even when I was threatening him. When mother knocked I quickly wiped away my tears and moved to my desk, burying my head in a book and trying to calm my voice as I called for her to come in.

"Well, how was your evening Alexandra?" Her voice was gentle but probing and I really wasn't in the mood.

"Pretty bad mother, but fortunately I don't think Trevor will be calling again."

"Why on earth not? What did you do Alexandra?"

Her automatic assumption that the break is my fault was too much, and I turned to her, eyes blazing, no longer caring about the tears that fall hot on my cheek.

"**I** didn't do anything mother. Trevor decided he didn't have to listen to me when I said stop and tried to force himself on me. When he wouldn't-- I kicked him in the balls, which seemed to have the desired effect."

She looked shocked and angry, and for a minute I thought she was actually going to sympathize, until she opened her mouth.

"Alexandra! What on earth were you thinking?"

"Thinking mother? What was I thinking? I was thinking that Trevor Langan is a disgusting, vile, and particularly repugnant form of human being and I didn't particularly want his hands or any other part of his anatomy in contact with mine."

She looked scandalized and I knew better than to think she was concerned with how this would make **me **look.

"Alexandra that was a very foolish thing to do. You should feel lucky that a man such as Trevor Langan would choose to grace you with his affections. He would make you a fine match."

"A fine match? Jesus mother, what about me? What about what I want? I suppose you think I should have just let Trevor rape me and then married him so we could have one of those repressed, society-page gracing, purebred families?"

The argument went downhill from there. The next day I moved out, stayed with a friend from Harvard until I found and leased the apartment I lived in until I started working for the DA's office.

I'm saved from the rest of my memory by a tickling of your lips on my cheek. Your silky voice rescues me,

"Good morning baby."

_Olivia_

You don't notice me for a minute, until I kiss your cheek and you startle, turning to look at me as I wish you good morning. I wonder what you were thinking about.

"You ok Lex?"

You nod, "Just thinking."

Sounds serious. "What about?"

You shake your head, and I see a tear fall from the corner of your eye. I prop up on an elbow and use my fingers to guide your face so that you're actually looking at me.

"Lexi, what's wrong?"

An hour later, I'll wish I hadn't asked.

_Alex_

At four o'clock I'm watching the airport grow small in the distance from my first class seat, wishing we could have ended this trip without having to revisit the whole Trevor thing. Especially since you still have to see him when you testify next week for Casey. I only hope you don't go after him now, hopefully you listened to me when I asked you to leave it alone, that it was history. I know you're first instinct is as a detective, as a member of SVU. But the statute of limitations is up on Trevor, and bringing up the past is only going to lead to more trouble. We have enough of that without dredging up ancient history. I'd rather not have told you anything, but as always you notice even the tiniest shifts in my mood and I wonder if I'll ever be able to hide anything from you. You've always read me a little too well.

I lean back in the seat, clutching the armrest as we hit a patch of turbulence. I can't begin to describe how grateful I am that this is my last solo flight for a while. I'm tired of the back and forth and exhausted by the feeling of being split between two lives.

Thanks to a delay on my stopover and an accident on the freeway I don't get back to the house until after eight Pacific time, and after calling you so you know I've arrived safely I collapse into bed, cursing jet lag and falling asleep to fitful nightmares full of my past and pains that may never fully heal.

_Olivia_

I take out my angry energy over my weekend on the apartment, furiously sanding the office floor, and scraping the roughness out of the concrete walls in the guest bedroom and bath. At noon on Wednesday I pause my work and settle into the sofa to stare out at the city. My fury over your experience with Trevor bubbles, catching me off guard at odd moments during the day. Tomorrow I'm back at work, and in less than a week I have to testify for Casey. Langan is the defense on the case and I feel sick at the thought of seeing him, knowing what I know. I've never been particularly over-fond of Trevor, especially knowing how well your mother liked him, but now it's all I can do to keep from rushing to his office, making him pay for what he did… off the books as it were.

You've begged me not to though, and I know you're right this time. There's nothing to be gained from kicking Trevor's ass, except my own peace of mind. And knowing Langan and his equally sleazy father, I'd end up eating my badge in the end. I toss back a water bottle and move back to working on your office. The floor is almost done and I should be able to get it stained and sealed today. By next weekend I'll be able to start painting. I can't stop a grin at the thought of your face when you see what I have in store for your office. If all goes well and I haven't lost all my talents, I should have the mural done by the time you get moved back. At the very worst I'll have to hire someone to do it with some of the money you left for the improvements. I grab a new block of sandpaper and crawl back to the far corner of the room. I use the force of my sanding to wipe away my anger.

By the time I'm back at my desk on Thursday I'm not actively mad anymore. I'm not looking forward to seeing Langan next week, but at least my rage has subsided to a dull roar, and I decide to save the sharper edge of it for the suspect we're being sent after. When the kid runs, I beat Elliot to him easily, and slam him against the hood of a parked car. He raped fourteen women and called it dating, and when I get him cuffed and spin him to read him his rights I swear I see Langan's eyes laughing at me from his face. I shove him to Elliot and walk back to the unmarked, starting the engine as my partner gets Emanuel the multiple rape dater situated in the backseat. I don't answer the question in Elliot's eyes as he slides into the passenger seat next to me. This isn't something I want to share.

_Alex_

On the fifth the guys from Goodwill show up disgustingly early to take the sofa and end tables as well as some of the clothes I've boxed up, and a bunch of bedding and towels. I usher them in still wearing my mismatched pajamas, and while they work I make coffee, thanking the gods that I can finally have caffeine again. We're going to have to come to some sort of compromise about my caffeine intake when I get back. The all decaf all the time thing is gonna kill me. I thank the goodwill movers with fresh cups of coffee on their way out the door and collect my donation receipt. For the first time since I've been back I check my voicemail. I didn't bother when I got home on Tuesday night, and I was home all day yesterday finishing up my sorting, and doing a little more packing besides and I forgot all about my answering machine. There are two messages from Cass, asking for advice on a case, a gracious farewell message from Williams, and a surprisingly warm message from the local SVU captain. I erase all but one of the messages from Cass, and then I realize I've missed one. For a minute I think I'm dreaming when I hear the voice on the tape.

"Alexandra, it's... it's Juliana. Your mother."

I'm shocked, and despite my residual anger I feel tears welling in my eyes.

"I opened your Christmas gift Alexandra. I suppose I could have called your cellular phone but you know how I feel about those ridiculous conversations where you have to spend half your time yelling."

There's a pause and for a minute I think she's done, that she's lost her nerve. I'm about to hit the erase button when she continues,

"You were right Alex. I knew long before Trevor tried to... before he... you know. You were always different Alexandra, I just wanted so much to believe it was because you were smart-- smarter than everyone around you, your father and I included. You knew more at the age of four than I knew at the age of twenty-one."

My tears break free as I hear my mother use my nickname-- something she's adamantly refused to do, even after daddy started calling me Alex on a regular basis.

"Look, that's not important. I just wanted to say thank you for the gift. It's a beautiful photograph. You've... you've never looked happier."

I replay the message four times before I pick up the phone to call you, wanting to share this hole in my mother's armor. It's not the melting of a glacier, but it's something. You sound pleased, but wary and I can't say that I blame you. Luckily you don't chide me for seeing her without telling you, and I'm glad you sound a bit distracted so you don't have time to dwell on my omission. You talk briefly about a case and I hear Elliot in the background talking to Warner, so I let you go quickly, not wanting to keep you from your work.

When I hang up the phone I take a shower, trying to decide what I want to do. Once I'm clean and feeling refreshed I pull on a pair of your sweatpants that I hijacked, baggy on you but perfect on me and a tank top, forgoing underwear and a bra since I don't actually intend to go anywhere or entertain visitors. I turn the fireplace on against the January chill and settle comfortably in one of the two recliners I've decided to move with me to New York. Once I'm warm and comfortable I pick up the phone, dialing the familiar number almost without looking, amazed as always at the things that time doesn't erase.

"Cabot residence."

"Elena, it's Alexandra... is mother in?"

"Of course ma'am, one moment."

I take a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine will calm my nerves-- a belief you insist is ridiculous and not scientific. Still I relish the warmth of the liquid, and imagine it giving me courage, and calm. I've just about convinced myself when I hear my mother's smooth and full of all the social graces she prizes so highly.

"Alexandra."

"Mother, I just got your message. I'm glad you liked the gift." It's awkward this start, and I find myself at a rare loss for words. We fall to a abnormal silence, then both begin to speak at once,

"Alex," "Mother,"

I pause and let her continue.

"Alex, I'm... not proud of the way I've acted. And as I said, you were right. I knew long before Trevor..."

"Tried to rape me?" I can't help the dig, as promising as this conversation may sound, I'm still angry.

"Yes. Before he forced himself on you, I could already see you weren't like other girls, other women. You always had an air of knowledge about you, an intelligence in your eyes that people noticed even when you were a baby. Your father and I knew you would never be a socialite, that you'd rather work than invest. When you chose law your father was thrilled. He saw the nobility of the profession, but when you chose prosecuting sex crimes all I saw was the banality, the grit. It was hardly the career I would have chosen for you, but you know that."

"This isn't about work mother, don't try to hedge away from what we're really talking about."

She falls silent, then concedes. "Yes, yes of course you're right. Once, when you were about six years old you came home from school and told me you'd gotten married. You sat in the kitchen and Tam gave you a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. I was checking on the dinner she was preparing and you told me all about your day, about how you'd made a new friend and how at recess you'd gotten married to an old one. Do you remember that?"

I shake my head, forgetting that she can't see me. She doesn't wait for a response though and I hold my silence.

"I asked you the name of your 'husband' and you looked up at me and grinned. You laughed for a minute and then stared me straight in the eye and said 'you silly goose. I don't have a husband. My wife's name is Leslie.' I was horrified."

Even now her voice is touched with a hint of the scandalous, and I feel a wash of memory flowing over me. Leslie Jestin. I haven't thought about her in years, not since high school, when we ended up in the same English class. As a child she was beautiful, incredible chestnut hair with these unbelievable almost golden eyes. She was my best friend all through kindergarten I adored her. In high school she'd become exactly like the high-society debs I despised after years of proper grooming, and we'd never revisited the friendship of our youth. Still I remember the way my head felt light as she passed in the halls, the way I lost track of the lesson as she answered questions in class. I'd forgotten all about our kindergarten marriage until now. Now that I think about it, she looks a lot like those pictures of you as a child. Funny... guess I always had good taste.

"I remember her. She was beautiful, funny too. For a six year old anyway."

"Yes. Well. Her mother phoned me later that evening and we agreed the two of you were spending too much time together. The Jestin's put Leslie in another private school and we found you some new friends. By the time the two of you crossed paths in high school we weren't worried anymore. Leslie was dating a prominent young man destined for Columbia, and she was exactly the sort of person you turned your nose at.

"Still, I knew it wasn't out of your system. Every so often you'd make fast friends with a girl at school, spend all of your free time with her and then be devastated when they chose to spend free moments with their boyfriends instead of with you. Every time you went out with a boy I was flooded with relief, every time I thought maybe you'd changed, that you'd become... normal."

I cringe, not wanting to accept the idea of abnormality. We fall back into our awkward silence, neither of us sure where to go, or wanting to particularly to move into this next piece of my lifeline.

"Joshua Langan and your father met years ago at a shareholders meeting for one of their pharmaceutical stocks. Meredith and I became good friends and we took every opportunity to put you and Trevor together, arranging play dates when you were younger, and encouraging you to turn to each other for study help in high school. I knew you didn't particularly like him, and your father tried to convince me to back off, but as you know I don't take orders well. Every time he pushed me to back off I fought harder. When you ended up at Harvard together Meredith and I were thrilled. We thought maybe you'd be drawn to each other by familiarity, and she confided in me one day that Trevor had developed rather a crush for you.

"At your graduation he pulled your father aside, asked his permission to date you. I was so excited, I was sure that this would be the end of those hapless crushes on your female classmates, that you'd stop mooning over women who already had boyfriends, fiancées. It was never obvious enough that your father noticed, I don't even think you realized what was happening in your heart. But a mother knows."

"That's what you were so happy about. In the graduation photo with Trevor behind us? It had nothing to do with my magna cum laude diploma-- nothing to do with getting my law degree from one of the most prestigious universities in the country. You were excited because you thought I was going to be straight?"

She has the sense to sound ashamed, "Yes Alexandra I was."

"Was it so horrible to think that I might actually meet a woman and fall in love? I realize it doesn't fall into your perfect Rich WASP lifestyle mother, but what about my happiness? Didn't that count for anything?"

"Why do you think I was so determined to turn you towards Trevor? I never wanted this life for you Alexandra. Maybe you haven't noticed in your little bubble, but your lifestyle isn't exactly well accepted. Haven't you felt the pain of discrimination, of bigotry yet? You've been with Olivia for more than five years, and you've never been looked down on, never been turned out, turned away? You've never had someone yelling slurs at you? You've never been hated for loving her?"

"Not by anyone but you, mother. The only person in my life who ever had a problem with our relationship was you." My tears start fresh, my pain suddenly new again, thinking of all the acceptance we've found in every corner of our lives except where I needed it most. She's quiet, listening to my crying without comment. For once though I don't feel the wave of disapproval that usually accompanies our conversations, the stiffness that she usually uses to greet my sobs. I try to recover but I'm too broken now, too steeped in all the pain I've tried to shove away so many times when I think about her, about her hatred of my life, of our life together.

I'm not sure how long I cry before I hear my mother's own shuddering, before I realize that she too, is drenched in the pain of these last bitter years. Her voice quivers as she speaks words I've waited years to hear,

"I'm sorry Alex. I've wasted too much time trying to change you. The photo you gave me for Christmas, when I saw the way you looked at her, the light in your eyes... even as a little girl I never saw that. I was trying to realize when you'd been that happy."

I know the answer, and so does she.

"Anyone who can make my daughter that happy, who can light up your face that way, give that spark in your eyes... anyone who can do that is worthy of my acceptance... even of my love.

"I can't say I'll ever really be comfortable with it Alexandra, I'm well trained to think the life you've chosen is an abomination, that it's wrong. But you're my daughter Alex... you came from me. I've spent years trying to deny my claim to you, to separate myself from your relationship with Olivia. I was wrong Lexi, and I'm sorry."

Our conversation dissolves into mutual tears, apologies. I look at the blank space on my wall where the photo hung until I boxed it up and wrapped it for mother for Christmas. I changed the frame so that it would match the tones of her sitting room, hoping that maybe she'd find it in her heart to put it on the wall, with photos of my Aunts and Uncles, of my cousins and their husbands, my cousins and their wives. Maybe it's not so farfetched a thought as I once imagined. I don't think we'll be invited to a family reunion anytime soon, but when we finally hang up we at least have an invitation to dinner upon my return, and mother tells of her intention to speak with you before I get back.

It's evening by the time we end our call, and I force myself out of the chair, stretching the tautness from my limbs, tipping my head from side to side to crack away the stiffness. I move to the bathroom and hold a washcloth under the cold water before bringing it to my face, hoping to chill away some of the puffiness that's invaded my features from a lengthy cry. I debate calling you again, knowing you'll be at the end of your shift, but decide against it. Choosing instead to resume my packing, more anxious than ever to return to the city, because now I have two reasons to return.

_Olivia_

Most of my first week without you is uneventful, with the exception of a dinner invitation from your mother that you encourage me to accept. You don't say much about it, except that you think I'll want to hear what she has to say to me. I stay skeptical, but when Juliana calls me a third time I accept the dinner invitation with reservations, although I request that we wait until the week before you're due to return. I'm not sure what she has to say that I could possibly be interested in, but for your sake I don't dismiss her outright.

I'm anxious for you to come back, and the night before my dinner with your mother I finally finish the work on your office in the penthouse. I've had to redo part of the mural three times, I'm sorely out of practice with a paintbrush, but I'm pleased with the end product. With Elliot's help I fix an unexpected hitch in the pipework in the guest bathroom and for the first time since I signed the lease I enjoy the view of the city from our completed apartment. It took two months and more money than I care to think about, but it's finally finished, and awaiting your decorator's touch. I watch the city lighting up as the sun fades from the sky, and reach for the phone even before it rings, knowing it will be your voice on the line.

"A week and a half."

You laugh, "How did you know what I was going to ask?"

"I just know." I twirl my ring on my finger, knowing somehow that you're doing the same.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

"Are you sure I need to do this? Your mother and I don't exactly have a good history together. Besides, I thought you'd finally given up on her."

"I did. But when I got back she called again. She had some important things to say Liv, things she needs to say to both of us, and to you. That's what tomorrow is for. Just hear her out alright? I think you'll be glad you did."

"If you say so. Are you all ready to go?"

"Yup. The movers come tomorrow morning and I hit the road the day after bright and early."

"Are you sure I can't talk you into flying instead? I don't like the idea of you driving all the way across the country on your own. It makes me nervous."

"I'll have my cell phone with me the whole time and I promise to call you regularly. I have hotels all lined up every step of the way, and I got the car checked out just like you asked. Clean bill of health with no foreseeable problems. If all goes well I'll be there in eight days."

I'm worried, and I wish I could have gotten time off to drive with you. But even when I thought I might be able to con my way into the time you demurred, saying you wanted a week of complete independence, where you relied only on yourself before we move into this new chapter of our lives together. I understand the desire, but still I'm not comfortable with you making the trip alone. I swallow my objections though and listen to you talk excitedly about your cross-country trip. You sound like a girl fresh from high school, planning a road trip before college, and despite my worries your exuberance is contagious and I let you talk me to sleep with plans of landmark stops and tourist sights.

I wake at 3am to the sound of your gentle snore on the line and I whisper an I love you before I disconnect and head back to my half-empty bed, wishing you were here now and not just preparing to come my way. I push my apprehension about dinner to the back of my mind and focus on the thought of having you back in my arms for good as I drift back to sleep.

In my dreams you're here, your fingers in my hair, on my skin, your lips on mine, tongue seeking mine. Even in my sleep I feel my heat rising at the thought of you and I wake hours later feeling happy and content, and more than ready to face whatever your mother has in store for me tonight. No matter what she says, you're coming back to me, and that's really all that matters.


	27. Photograph

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Photograph**

_Alex_

I wake to the sound of my doorbell, and loud knocking.

"Crap." I jump from the bed yelling for the movers to hold on while I pull on wrinkled jeans and an old t-shirt. I pull my hair into a messy ponytail and head out to get the door. I forgot to set my alarm last night and I'm lucky the movers didn't leave when I didn't answer right away. I let the men in and ask that they start in the living room. I point out the things that are going, finishing marking a couple of boxes and then head back to the bedroom and lock the door so I can shower and put on clean clothes. By the time I'm put together the movers are almost done with the boxes in the living room and have started on the kitchen. I start some coffee and move into the living room, now empty save for the pillows on the windowseat. I nab the supervisor and walk him through the bedroom, pointing out which furniture goes and what stays. When I'm confident that they know what they're taking I go back to the living room and settle into the windowseat with a book. I'm lost in fictional world of legal-ease when the supervisor clears his throat. The house is almost empty and every box has been shifted into the van outside. I sign the papers he proffers, take my copy and then close the door behind his crew, sliding the lock home and turning to look at the shell of a house.

It's odd, this emptiness. The house is hollow and even my bare feet echo on the floors. I move through the house, running my hand along the empty walls where photographs used to hang. I'm strangely attached to this place, to this house. I've spent more than two years here, reluctantly at first, but now it feels like home to me. When I return from my tour to the kitchen I pour a fresh cup of coffee, gathering the trash from the movers coffee break and taking the bag out to the curb for tomorrow's trash pick up. Looking around I decide to pack up the car and head to the coast for my last night. I call the apartment and leave you a message, not wanting to bother you at work, then finish loading the last of my things into the sedan. I head out of town, pausing to leave the house keys with the realtor in downtown Salem, then turn my car towards the freeway, heading west.

Two hours later I'm leaving the woods on Highway 20, and the waves of salty air refresh my senses. I make my way to a hotel on the beach, thankful for once that I'm a trust fund baby. When I'm settled into a fourth floor room with an ocean view I pull on a coat and sneakers and make my way to the beach, marveling as always at how strikingly different the Pacific is from my native Atlantic Ocean. I perch on a rock and watch the tides changing until the sun begins to set. When I'm back in my hotel room I draw a bath and grab a book, waiting for you phone call.

_Olivia_

When I get home from work I have an hour to get ready for dinner with your mother. I stop to check messages, making a note to call your cell instead of the house phone when I get back. I'm glad you're not just staying in that empty house tonight. As much as I once worried about it, it's clear to me now how you've gotten so attached to that place. Even I found it hard to go back to the city after a respite in the woods. And after our weekend on the coast it's easy to see why you've chosen to spend your last day there. I know you'll be waiting for my call, and I only hope I have good things to tell you.

I keep the message, mostly because I like being able to hear your voice at the push of a button. I dress more comfortably this time, forgoing dress slacks for jeans and a t-shirt. I have nothing to prove to your mother anymore, and as far as I'm concerned I'm only doing this for you. I tuck my small work notebook in my back pocket, wanting to have the notes I made about your mother's financial affairs handy-- just in case. You sounded so hopeful about this invitation but I'm not convinced.

I take one last look in the mirror and scrub a hand through my hair. I'm pleased to see that Thomas isn't waiting with the car when I hit the street, and I hail a cab and settle into the slightly sticky backseat after instructing the driver of the best route to Cabot Castle. I arrive to find the gate open for a change, and I'm shocked when your mother herself opens the door.

"Olivia, welcome. I'm so glad you came." Her voice is warm, and I'm wary of this sudden turn-around.

"Well, Alex insisted. She said you had something you needed to tell me." I know I'm being harsh, aware that my tone is accusatory. I'm feeling very … cop-like this evening, and your mother has a lot to account for, a lot to explain. Until I hear an apology, I'm not lowering my defenses. She motions for me to come inside and I walk past her as she holds the door, then shrug out of my coat which she hangs in a nearby closet.

I head towards the living room but realize she's turned and is walking towards the opposite side of the house. I follow her down a long hallway and into what appears to be an office. I look around and realize that this must be your mother's office. There are photos of your parents with various financial moguls that I don't recognize, a picture of your mother with Donald Trump at some fancy dinner, and your father's Harvard diploma hangs on wall surrounded by photographs of him and you together. When I look above the computer it takes me a minute to recognize the photo that's hung there. I move closer and realize it's the picture of us in Greece, but it's in a new frame. Where did she get that?

I feel Juliana move to stand beside me, feel her hand rest gingerly on my shoulder as though she fears I'll push her away. I don't turn to face her, instead finding myself captivated by this frozen moment of our lives.

"Alexandra gave me that photo for Christmas. I don't know when it was taken, or where. She left before I had a chance to ask. Actually she left before I even opened it. As usual we had some ridiculous argument and she ran out. It was, of course my fault really. Most of our arguments are. I've a lot to atone for to my daughter." She pauses, then squeezes my shoulder gently, "and to you."

"Greece. We went to Greece for a week, about a year before she… died. I think we took that in Mykonos. I didn't see most of the photos she developed; she was always so shy about her talent as a photographer. She had that one hanging in the living room in Oregon. It was the first time I'd seen it. I've spent probably an hour staring at this photograph when I was at Alex's. She set that one up on the timer, and I never noticed that she was staring at me when the flash went off."

"She looks happy. You make her happy." Your mother's voice is soft, almost reluctant and I turn to look at her for the first time really since I've arrived. She wipes at some unshed tear, and I feel myself softening despite my resolve. Despite your encouragement, I didn't expect this. I assumed she wanted to talk more about what I knew, about what information I had. I'm not sure what to think.

Juliana reaches out a hand, fingering the textured silver frame. "I've spent a lot of time fighting my daughter. I convinced myself it was for her own good, but even when she was a little girl I devoted a good portion of my energy to steering her in the 'right' direction. Her father was always more concerned with keeping her happy, he spoiled her mercilessly, and I suppose I overcompensated, trying to keep her in line. I wanted her to become like me, like my mother… proper, well-mannered, a society wife. When Jacob died I learned quickly the shortcomings of being a token. I had no real degree to speak of, no training… but because of Jacob's will I was suddenly the de facto CEO of two financial institutions, and a majority stockholder in three others. I'd never paid much attention to Jacob's work, outside of how it affected my fundraising efforts over the years. Trevor Langan's father Joshua spent many hours retraining me, giving me all the ins and outs of Jacob's business. The only other option was to allow my shares to be bought out.

"Those holdings have been in the Cabot line almost since the companies had been opened. No one wanted the family to lose those investments."

She moved to a pair of leather armchairs across the room, an overstuffed bookcase on the wall between them. Motioning for me to sit she continued,

"Joshua waited almost a year before telling me exactly what was involved in some of those holdings. I suppose he wanted to be sure I was really 'in it' before he admitted to any of the rather… borderline activities. By the time he told me the full implications of what was involved in one of the companies, my signature was already on half of the paperwork. It was too late for me to back out, so I accepted it as part of the bargain. It seemed like a small price to pay at first, for the opportunity to continue my husband's work. It also seemed fair considering how much of the investment dividends I'd begun using solely for various fundraising efforts."

"Why not just sell the company? Or clean it up, get out of the 'borderline'?"

"It's not that simple anymore Olivia. Selling the company, even just selling my shares of it would call quite a bit of attention to the company's activities. Those papers you found? The reports? It's nothing compared to what's actually involved. Joshua doesn't know it but I am looking into things independently. I've been consulting another lawyer, trying to determine what my rights would be should I decide to turn over my own information."

"Have you told Alex about all of this? She might be able to help you."

"Have you told her? Have you shown her your information, told her what you know?"

"In all honesty Juliana I don't understand most of that paperwork. I was never much for numbers, and financial speak ranks just below legal-speak on my language scale. I can balance my checkbook, but that's about the extent of my skills. How bad is it exactly?"

"You don't want to know. Just… trust me. You never answered my question-- does Alexandra know what you know?"

I shake my head, "No. She knows that I have information, and that it isn't good, but I refused to tell her what I'd found. She had enough hostility towards you without my help."

Juliana nods, still silent.

"I decided she didn't need to know you were a criminal." I'm pushing it, testing her to see how serious she is about this seeming reconciliation. She blushes, looking contrite.

"Olivia, I'm trying. Really. After you left, I went back over the files, reexamined all the financials. I think I can extricate myself from it if I can find someone to hand it over to for review."

"You want to turn it over to the authorities?"

She nods, "This isn't what I wanted to discuss. I'm sorry. I didn't intend to pull you into this mess. And I never wanted it to get this close to Alexandra."

"Actually I might be able to help you. Elliot mentioned an acquaintance in the financial world, someone who might be able to decipher those papers, and who might also be able to put you in touch with an affiliated lawyer, someone who could help you get out of this mess."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that. And now, let's eat shall we? We can talk about more pleasant things. Like this wedding you're planning."

Once again I'm caught off guard, unsure of what's happening. I've been thrown for a loop tonight, from the moment I walked in the door. I feel out of my element, and I've thrown all of my expectations out the window. I can't wait to get home to tell you about this new woman who's replaced the frosty bitch who once claimed she'd die before accepting the person you'd become. The honest truth is I'm not sure if I should be encouraged… or frightened.

Dinner is in the kitchen this time, a cozier and less elegant an affair. We've left talk of business behind, and I agree to call Elliot after dinner and get the number of his friend in Finance. For now though, Juliana seems content to try and get to know me for a change. She still appears to be uncomfortable, and I'm not sure if it's because of the vulnerability she's shared, or if she's still uneasy with the idea of our relationship. Either way I can see she's making an effort, and I try to put my own judgments and anger behind me, keeping my defenses down, but close in case I'm still in for a trick.

Juliana waves her hand towards the small kitchen table, inviting me to sit and she turns to the wall-oven that blends almost seamlessly with the cabinets. I can't help but raise my eyebrows, I was unaware Cabot women could cook. Juliana turns back with two plates of food and catches my look, answering with a laugh,

"No, I can't cook either. I asked Tam to leave something heating in the oven. I've never set the stove on fire, but I'm not exactly anyone's first choice for chef of the year."

"Alex has. Set the stove on fire I mean. It was the first time she ever tried to cook dinner for me. We hadn't been dating for very long… actually we'd hardly dated at all. We were still calling them 'dinners' and not dates." Why am I telling your mother this story? "She invited me over to talk about a case, and she offered to make dinner. Of course if I'd known then what I know now I would have insisted on cooking. We ended up spending half the night talking to the firefighters who put out the fire. She was mortified. I've never let her live it down."

Juliana smiles and settles at the table across from me, pouring seltzer water into two wineglasses. "No wine test this time?" I regret it as soon as the words leave my lips, but your mother is the one who looks apologetic.

She looks down at her plate, and brings the glass to her lips, sipping slowly .

"I'm sorry Juliana, that wasn't fair. You've been nothing but gracious tonight and I'm afraid I'm abusing your hospitality, although even you must admit this is rather… odd."

"No Olivia, you're right. The truth is I have a lot to apologize for. I'll have to find a way to make up for things with Alexandra later, but for now all I can do is start trying to know you better, finding out what she sees in you."

"Thanks a lot."

"No… no that didn't come out right. I just meant that for all of our differences, my daughter has almost impeccable judgment. If she loves you, she has good reason, and it's time I came to terms with that. I've spent too long trying to convince Alex that she isn't… well you know. It's time for me to learn to accept her instead of fighting with her. And accepting her means accepting you."

I nod, not sure what to say.

"So, tell me about yourself, about the woman who's going to marry my daughter. If you're going to be in the family, I ought to know more than just what you do for a living. Tell me about you, about my daughter. I'm sure you can tell me more than I can tell you. I'd… I'd like to get to know the person she's become."

At 1am I happily accept a ride from Thomas, not wanting to hail a cab. This time Thomas leaves the divider up, and I take the time to review the evening, still surprised at the sudden change in your mother's attitude. She is still visibly uncomfortable talking about our relationship, but her effort is obvious and refreshing after what I can only imagine has been years of solitude and misunderstanding. I smile, thinking of our visit to your childhood bedroom. Though the room itself didn't reflect much of the woman I know, there were traces of you everywhere; from the overflowing bookcases to the stacks of spiral notebooks that sat on the desk, chairs and floor. The elastic cord photo display next to your desk was clearly handmade, and your mother was kind enough to let me take a few of the pictures with me.

I arrive back at the penthouse tired, but content. I finally believe that your mother wants to try, that she's given up fighting you about your life, about us. I pick up the phone, hoping you're still awake for some good news.

_Alex_

I wake up shivering and wet, realizing I've fallen asleep in the bath before I've even finished the first page of my book. I stand in the draining water and curse as I see my now saturated book floating at my feet. Checking my watch I see that it's almost nine o'clock, which means I've been sleeping for more than two hours. I towel dry, rubbing my arms and legs with the soft terry trying to tease back some of my warmth and I wonder why you haven't called yet to tell me about dinner. Moving into the bedroom I pull on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, deciding to add a light hooded sweatshirt to the outfit until I can get myself warmed up again. I call room service to get the dinner I've missed for my nap and I pull another book from my suitcase to occupy me until you call. Mother would have my head for reading while I eat, but thankfully it was never an issue for you.

I'm just getting warmed up again, and halfway through the third chapter when room service arrives with a bread bowl of clam chowder and a sandwich that I'll probably save for breakfast on the road tomorrow. The soup finishes warming my bones and I leave the tray outside the door, crawling into the large bed with my book, waiting for your call. Less than an hour after waking in the expired bubble bath I hear my cell phone chirping.

"Hey… you've been gone awhile, did everything go ok?"

"Your mother is… unbelievable. I mean, the difference is astounding Alex, you wouldn't have recognized her." You sound incredulous and I'm glad it seems to have gone well. It's time my mother stopped antagonizing you.

"So it went well?"

"I don't even know where to start Lexi, she was a completely different woman. I mean she's clearly still uncomfortable with our relationship but she was nothing if not gracious, and she managed to welcome me without any of our previous dinner's pretense or testing."

"What did she have to say? Did she apologize?"

"Profusely. And she seemed genuine about it. I think you're right, I think maybe she's finally realized that all she's doing is pushing you away, and that you're all she has left."

"Yeah, but what spawned the big change? I'm glad it came, but it just seemed so odd, out of the blue."

"The picture."

"What? What picture?"

"The one you gave her for Christmas Alex. The picture is what did it. She finally figured out that you were happy-- really, genuinely happy. Turns out that's all that matters to her now."

You tell me about the rest of the evening, about eating in the kitchen (something mother never does), about the tour of my bedroom, about giving you pictures from my younger days, about the stories you told each other about me. You know about Leslie Jestin, and mother knows about my habit of setting stoves on fire. I'm still a little wary of mother's sudden desire to be involved, but I'm grateful that she's decided to treat you like a human being, that she's decided to treat you like my fiancée, like the woman I love. I sigh contently as you finish recounting the evening, and while I'm not expecting her to bless our wedding, I feel as though we've at least made some headway. Someday maybe she'll lose the unease you speak of; maybe someday she'll be happy and comfortable with us and our relationship, our future. I certainly hope so.

We talk idly about other things, work, Elliot and the kids, the fact that Munch appears to be dating some unknown woman, and Casey's continued incompetence. By the time we fall momentarily silent an hour later the sound of your voice has lulled me, warmed me in a way that no sweatsuit can, in a way no soup can match. I'm missing your touch, anxious to be back in your arms, in your bed.

"Livvie…" My voice is playful… just because you aren't here doesn't mean I can't have you.

"Yes?"

"What are you wearing?"

"What?" Your voice is full of surprise, even disbelief…

"I asked what you were wearing, and the correct answer doesn't involve clothing."

_Olivia_

"Livvie?"

"Yes?"

"What are you wearing?" At first I don't think I've heard you correctly.

"What?"

"I asked what you were wearing, and the correct answer doesn't involve clothing."

I did hear you correctly. A grin steals across my face as I think of you lying in a large fluffy hotel bed, teasing me from across the country.

"What are **you** wearing?"

I hear a rustling, a small grunt and a giggle. "A cell phone and a smile."

My grin widens and I move to drop my own clothes on the floor beside my bed. "What a coincidence."


	28. Road Trip

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Road Trip**

_Alex_

By the third day of driving I'm wishing I'd let you come with me. Long days in the car and short nights in hotels have worn me through, and I'm ready to be done with this trip. What on earth possessed me to make it a road trip? I'm not a road trip kind of girl. Granted it's better than driving in the other direction with a clutch of federal agents in tow and Agent Hammond at the wheel, but only marginally so. I've switched from coffee to mountain dew, and my music selection has gotten noticeably louder and a little angry-- mostly in an effort to keep me awake during long flat stretches through the middle of the country. I've already decided I was crazy to do so much driving in a day, and that I should have booked hotels that were much closer together. As it is I hate to stop before I hit a reservation, and to that end I've spent my first two days on the road driving for almost fifteen hours both days.

I pull into my third hotel to find the office closed for the night already. I meant to call earlier and ask them to hold my reservation. I cross my fingers and knock on the glass door, hoping that the managers are in the back room and not heavy sleepers. I move from knocking on the door to knocking on a shaded window, through which I can make out the flickering of a television. An angry man with two-day stubble, scruffy hair and thick black glasses holds the door ajar, his head through the opening.

"Closed. We're closed lady what do you want?"

"I have a reservation, Cabot single."

"It's after midnight."

"I'm sorry, I forgot to call while I was on the road."

He looks around, "we're full. Go somewhere else."

I turn and check the parking lot, which holds two cars for a fully functioning motel. "Really? Could have fooled me. Look, you'll get to bed much faster if you just check me in and let me go to my room."

He pauses for a moment, then grunts and opens the door. Twenty minutes later I'm passed out on a questionably 'clean' bed, not realizing until the trilling of my phone breaks my stupor that I've forgotten to call you. I reach sleepily for the phone and smile as I hear your voice,

"You **are** alive."

"Sorry baby, I fell asleep and forgot to call."

"I was worried, you said you'd call."

"I know I know, I'm sorry. I drove sixteen hours today and had to wake up the motel manager to get my room." I'm really not in the mood for being worried over, and I'd rather get sleep right now than tell you about all sixteen hours of driving I've done today.

"Ok, don't bite my head off. I just worried about you and wanted to make sure you were all right." You sound hurt, and I feel a little guilty. I know you miss me, and we're both anxious for this to be over.

I sigh and apologize, then ask to hear about your day. You talk about your new cases, about Elliot's pending divorce hearing, and about a call you had from mother. Somewhere along the way I fall asleep to the sound of your voice. At some point I hear you whisper an I love you and in my dreams my thoughts turn from the innocent to the erotic as I remember the things we did my last night in Oregon.

_Olivia_

I'm telling you about the conversation I had with your mom today when I hear your breathing deepen, and I realize you've fallen asleep. I debate hanging up, but I miss you, miss the sound of you sleeping. I leave the phone on, putting on the headset I bought after you went back to Oregon the first time. I lay in our half empty bed and feel myself being lulled to sleep by the sound of you when I realize your breathing has changed, quickened. I turn up the volume and hear you moaning, then smile… realizing that in your sleep you're dreaming… I can only assume-- of me.

I whisper into the phone, "I love you Lexi."

There's a pause, and I hear you sleepily respond, "Liv?"

"I'm here baby… you were dreaming."

You giggle quietly, "Can you guess what it was about?"

"Judging by the moan, I would certainly hope it was about me. Otherwise you have some explaining to do counselor."

"I was just remembering the other night." Your voice is heavy, full of sleep and warmth, and I grin wider, deciding to play into the moment.

"So, what are you wearing?"

"Mmmm not now Livvy, I need to sleep…"

"And I'm going to help you. You know you always sleep better after…"

You groan, and I proceed,

"You know what I have on Alex?"

"Liv…"

"The necklace you gave me, and my engagement ring."

"Nothing else?"

"Not a damn thing. Can you picture that? Me naked, waiting for you?"

You groan, but the tenor is different this time, aroused, not angry.

"What about you Alex… what are you doing right now?"

You sigh, and I can see the expression on your face as well as if you were laying beside me in our bed. You want to resist, but you can't and I listen to your willpower dissolve.

"I'm imagining you're here, that your hand is in my hair, your body pressed up next to mine, our skin together."

"Take my hand from your hair, move it down… let it rest alongside your face, can you feel my thumb on your cheek, my fingers playing with your earlobe? Move down, slowly… take my path down the line of your neck, feel me brushing the edge of your jaw, a finger across your lips. Can you feel me with you? Am I there-- next to you?"

"Yes Liv… don't stop."

I smile, secretly thrilled to have this kind of power even when we're apart. "What are you wearing Alex? Are in still dressed?"

There's a rustling, and I can hear you pulling the rough motel covers over your skin, the edge brushing the phone. "No… I'm bare, ready… what do I do?"

"Move your hand down, lower… let your fingers brush over your nipple, feel the weight of your flesh in your hand… imagine my hand stroking the edge of you, tracing lines along your side, down to your hip then up, around the roundness of your skin."

You moan quietly, and I close my eyes, picturing your hand on my own body, mimicking the instructions I've given you. "Lower now, slower now… let your hand lie flat on your stomach, feel my hand on your skin, pausing above you, waiting above you… are you ready for me now? Ready for me to touch you?"

"Please… yes Liv… please can I…?"

"Mmm… yes-- but slowly Lexi… just one finger, let one finger fall between your legs, one finger trace that line from bottom to top, not inside… but almost. Are you wet baby? Wet for me? I am. Can you feel me with you?"

You gasp as I do, my finger gathering my arousal, quickly coating my finger… your finger. I'm trying to stay in control of this, the way you did the other night but it's hard not to get lost in the fantasy of it… in the idea of you with me.

"Lexi… are you there?"

"Yes Liv… please…"

"Please what Lex?"

"Fuck me…"

Those words from your mouth are enough for me, you love to hear me say them but rarely do you say them, and now I know why it excites you so much when I do. There's something so visceral about their vulgarity that almost pushes me over without another touch. I struggle for a minute, groaning into the phone before I can recover and continue.

"Say it again…"

"Fuck. Me."

"Move your finger Alex… feel my finger finding you, pushing inside, pushing beyond where your skin is swollen for me. Add another finger, do you feel me inside you, moving, reaching, twisting?"

I'm answered with a moan and I mimic my instructions, feeling your hand inside my own body, the lines between real and imagined blurred, obscured completely, unrecognizable as I begin to lose my voice to the breathiness of my desire,

"Faster Alex… faster. More. Please…"

Your breathing is ragged, strained and I can feel you getting closer as I fondle my breast with my free hand… increasing my tempo, trying to match you, wanting to come with you. I feel my body contracting around my fingers, feel my stomach clench, my legs tighten and I'm driven over the final edge as you join me,

"Olivia! I'm… I'm… oh god." There's a silence as you cross the bridge to your orgasm, and I smile again, letting my hand rest lazily between my legs as you expel a satisfied sigh into the phone.

"Feel better?"

"Mmmm… you have to ask?"

"Goodnight Alexandra."

"What? Now?"

"Yup. Don't you have to be up and on the road again in like five hours?"

"That's so unfair."

"I didn't promise to be fair, I promised to be good. And I think we can both agree--"

"Damn you Benson."

"I love you Alex… sleep well. Hurry Home."

_Alex_

"I love you Alex… sleep well. Hurry Home."

There's a distinctive click on the line and I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. You cheat. What if I wanted to cuddle? I laugh at the thought of curling my body around a cell phone and let you off the hook. Besides, you have a point-- I've got about five hours until I need to be back on the road and I let the wobbly post-coital feeling pull me away into a deep sleep.

My cell phone chirps at 7am, and remembering that I forgot to actually set an alarm I answer groggily,

"Wha--?"

"Good morning sunshine. I figured you'd probably forget to set the alarm so I wanted to make sure you were up and ready to go."

"ugh… morning Liv. Aren't you at work?"

"Yeah, Elliot and I are on the way back to the house, just left a scene. I wanted to make sure you were up because you were a little… out of it last night."

I can hear the smirk in your voice, and I blush, even though I'm sure Elliot has no idea what you're talking about. A panic flashes through my body as I realize that Elliot just might know what you're smirking about. After all-- partner's talk. Oh Jesus.

"Well anyway, you're up, and we're back so I'll let you get on the road. Back to work with me, love you baby."

"Bye Liv."

I hear Elliot yell a goodbye in the background and then the phone is quiet. I roll in the bed and then force myself up and into the shower. Within half an hour I'm packed up, clean and on the road. By nine pm I'm exhausted and ready to stop, but still three hours from my next hotel, this time I remember to call ahead and let them know I'm delayed. The manager agrees to stay in the front office until I arrive. I hang up and crank up the CD you sent me before I left. I let the sound of Norah Jones silky voice fill the car and carry me towards my next destination-- one day closer to you.

_Olivia_

The week drags by. Each night you call from a different town, usually from a different state, and you've tacked an extra day on your trip because I threatened to fly out and kill you myself if you tried to drive again after the fifth day in a row of being in the car for more than fourteen hours. It's inhuman the pace you're setting and I've been worried about your safety on the road. I should have insisted you let me fly out and drive with you, but you had some notion about embracing your last bit of youthful independence despite your ahem thirty plus years of age. I don't pretend to understand, I just let you ride off on some ridiculous road trip without me.

I check my watch for the hundredth time, and Elliot shakes his head at me over the computer he's searching for information.

"She'll call you when she gets into town Liv."

"Can it Stabler."

I check my phone… again, wondering why you're not here yet.

"Detectives, my office. Now."

Saved by the captain. At least if I'm getting reamed out I won't be worrying about you. We follow Don's angry strides and Elliot closes the door gingerly behind us.

"You want to explain why Casey just delivered a restraining order against the two of you. One that prevents you from talking to the only two witnesses we had in this investigation?"

My cell phone chirps, of course you'd get into town now.

"You answer that detective and it'll be your badge on my desk. Start talking."

"The mother is overreacting captain, look all we wanted to do was ask a couple of questions and she flipped out."

"According to the report from her attorney you grabbed her daughter by the arm, told her you knew what it was like to be in love with a girl and that you encouraged her to come to you with any 'questions'." The air quotes around the word questions and the look on his face make it pretty clear what the mother meant. He looks up at me while slamming the folder down on his desk.

"Look, captain…"

"I don't want to hear it Olivia. She's filing a sexual harassment suit on behalf of her daughter."

"She's crazy! Olivia never touched her, and they were never alone together without me." Elliot's face is red, almost purple in anger, and I find myself strangely speechless. The case hasn't gone smoothly, but I never expected to get attacked.

Our victim has two sisters, both of whom may or may not have been molested by the stepfather. One of the sisters, seventeen and probably the original victim admitted during an interview with Elliot and I that she was gay, and afraid to tell her family.

"Look, Don the girl was terrified that her family was going to find out she's gay. She started to cry, Liv put one hand on her shoulder, I handed her a Kleenex, and Olivia said she understood. Nothing more, nothing less. And besides that, the mother wasn't even in the room, she has no idea what did or didn't happen. This whole thing is ridiculous. The mother is trying to deflect attention from her molesting bastard of a second husband."

"Either way, I don't have much choice here. Olivia you're off the case, Elliot get with Munch and Fin and fill them in on what you know. Then you head out and talk to people in the neighborhood. Benson you're on ass duty until further notice."

"Cap--"

"No arguments. You're lucky I was able to talk them out of an automatic suspension. You better hope your girlfriend gets back in time to make this suit go away or you're looking at a demotion and a transfer. Get back to work. And find me another witness Stabler. Quickly."

I slam my way out of the office, not wanting a personal reprimand on top of everything else. I grab my coat and head for the door, ignoring Elliot's voice behind me. Right now the only person I want to see is you. It's time for lunch anyway. By the time hit the elevator my eyes sting with tears. This is the first time my life with you has affected my work this way, and I'm not ashamed to say it has me incredibly frightened. I listen to the message you've left as I hit the street, and hail a cab back to the apartment, wanting to fight my tears until you're there to dry them for me. I need you to take this away.


	29. Home

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Home**

_Alex_

When I hear the door slamming I'm surprised. I figured you didn't answer your phone because of work, and I didn't expect to see you here right now. I'm nowhere near unpacked but hauling stuff up from the car has me exhausted and I'm relaxing in the bedroom with my almost finished book when I realize you've come home early for some reason. Hoping it's because you've managed to talk Don into giving you the day off I move quickly to greet you with a smile and a kiss. My excitement is stopped short when I see the tears that fall from your eyes.

"Olivia, my god, what's wrong?"

You reach me and throw your arms around me, shaking. "She's trying to get me fired. Jesus, Alex I could lose my job."

"What? What are you talking about? Who's trying to get you fired? What the hell happened?" A panic rises in my throat, my fear breaking through even before I know what's going on. "Honey, what happened?"

You sigh, trying to still your tears as I sit with you on the couch facing the window. You take a deep breath, grabbing at my wrist as I reach to wipe your tears. "It's the case I was telling you about. The one where the girl's getting molested by her stepfather. The oldest girl is seventeen, and gay. She's afraid to tell her mom, and doesn't want to rat on the stepfather because she feels like the molestation was part of the reason she is the way she is. She can't separate the two in her head and she's not ready to come out to her mom, who's in complete denial about the bastard to begin with."

"How does this lead up to your job getting threatened?"

"Elliot and I went over yesterday to talk to the mother and the daughter. The mom, Lane, stormed out of the room after telling us we could ask Alyssa whatever we wanted because she was 'just a little liar anyway.' We talked to Alyssa who told us about her lifestyle, and how afraid she was. She started crying and I put a hand on her shoulder, told her I understood. Now Lane is charging me with sexual harassment on behalf of her daughter, saying that I grabbed her arm, made inappropriate comments."

You dissolve into tears again, and your fear is palpable.

"That's ridiculous. Elliot was in the room?"

You nod. "You were never alone with the girl?"

A shake.

"Absolutely absurd. Baby, calm down ok-- I can fight this. Easily."

"God Alex… he didn't even ask if it was true."

"Who didn't?" I thought you said Elliot was there.

"Don. He told me I was lucky I wasn't suspended and sent me on ass duty until further notice. Elliot's not allowed near the kids or the mother, in addition to the sexual harassment she's filed a restraining order against us."

I ask you for more details, wanting to know as much as I can about the case, the suspect and the family of victims before I take charge. I call Don and tell him you're off for the rest of the day, my tone indicating that it's not up for argument, then tell him I'll be in his office before he goes home to discuss the harassment suit and restraining order. I tuck you into bed with an order to sleep, and head out to the courthouse to track down Casey. I'm not due to start working for another few days, but I need a jump-start-- and her help to get going on this one. I refuse to let you get fired for doing your job.

_Olivia_

I fall asleep to the sound of your voice on the phone in the other room. You're clearly angry and I'm too exhausted to tell you not to bother. You've forced me rather unceremoniously into the bed with an order to sleep and then gone out to make phone calls. I should get up, go back to work but I'm exhausted and scared and not feeling up to facing an entire squad room of people who know more than they need to. In my sleep I feel you kissing my forehead, telling me to ignore the phone and that you'll be back in a few hours, with some answers.

I sleep fitfully for an hour, then give up and risk a lecture as I dress and collect my badge and gun. I wash my face carefully, and reapply some makeup- hoping it will cover the teary bags under my eyes. Running away from work means that Lane Sandit wins, and I'm not willing to conceded defeat no matter how humiliated I feel. Knowing that you're back and fighting for me helps, and I leave you a note in case I don't run into you at work, then hail a cab back to the station.

I shoot Elliot a warning look, staving off conversation and look towards Don's closed office door to see you pacing in front of his desk. He looks angry, but not as angry as you-- I can read you like a book- and I know it's not going to be a good idea if I'm here when you get out of the office. I'm not leaving though. I shove my things in my locker and sit at the computer, going through old files making sure everything's in order. Elliot heads out to re-canvas the neighborhood and as he passes I grab his arm,

"Thanks for defending me in there." I nod towards Don's office.

"You're my partner. I know you didn't do anything wrong and so should he. You should have seen his face when Alex walked in and slammed the door behind her. She'll fix it, don't worry. Any suggestions before I head out to do this?"

"None. I'm dry on this one. All we've got is those girls. Unless Munch and Fin can crack them we're screwed."

"That's what I was afraid of. Look, I'll call if I find anything. Just-- stay under the radar all right?"

I nod and turn back to the office, watching you fight for me. At one point you turn and gesture to the squad room and I flush as your eyes meet mine. Even across the room and through the window I can see the angry flash in your crystal irises. If Don doesn't kill me, you probably will. I move quickly back to my files and work on clearing a month's worth of backlog off my desk. When you finally emerge from Don's office he calls to me, closing the door behind me as you walk towards my desk, waiting.

There's a silence, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say so I keep quiet. Don sits at his desk with a heavy sigh.

"Cabot talked to Novak, and Liz Donnelly. Between the three of them, and with a sworn affidavit from your partner they're confident they can get the harassment suit dropped. The restraining order stays. You and Elliot are officially off the case as soon as he finishes the neighborhood canvas."

I start to protest, wanting to finish what I've started but I'm cut off.

"Don't argue with me Olivia. I realize you have a unique perspective on this but right now you can do more harm than good. I'm sorry. The powers that be want you on desk duty for a week as it is, even though the harassment is clearly trumped up and desperate.

"I'm sorry, Olivia. I should have asked what happened before I flew off the handle. I didn't expect this to be an issue. Part of what makes you a good detective is your ability to relate, but when it comes to things like this…"

"Like what Captain? Like my personal life? My love life? Are you telling me to keep my personal preferences under wraps? When have I ever let my personal choices get in the way of my job? That girl was miserable, desperate. I knew what she was going through and I told her so. If she assumed that meant I was gay then that's her assumption. All I said was that I understood. Do you really think I'm going to come out to a witness whose mother is already on my ass for harassing her family? She needed to feel like somebody got it. I didn't want another Sophie on my hands Captain, I've had enough of those already."

Don's eyebrows raise in an unasked question and I shake my head, not wanting to refresh his memory. "Look, I'm off the case, fine. Ass-duty, fine. But I'm not going to hide who I am because it might get in the way. I'll live my life the way I have been. And it won't affect my work Don. It never has, and it never will. Cops get accused of harassment all the time, especially in our unit you know that. Gay, straight or twisted, these are people who need someone to blame. Sometimes we're the easy targets. My being gay has nothing to do with it. I'm hoping you can still see that."

He nods, apparently satisfied with my explanations, then raises his eyes to the window. "I think Alex wants a word with you. She wasn't too happy to see you back at work."

"Yeah I figured. What about you?"

"Make it quick, you have files to finish." It's the closest I'll get to approval for now, and I make a hasty retreat from the office, only to get pulled into the interrogation room by you. If I didn't know better, I'd swear there was steam coming from your ears.

_Alex_

"I thought I told you to stay at home."

"Look-- 'mom'-- If I stayed home I might as well have let her win. You might be able to fight this in court but this is where I fight. If I don't come in and do my job they win. You know that. I need to be here."

You're calming down, listening to me. I watch the anger leave your face, feel your tension draining. You reach out and take my hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I talked to Casey and Liz. The harassment suit should be dropped by the end of the day. I read through it and if I hadn't been so angry it would have been funny. She's clearly grasping at straws. The good news is that after listening to Don talk about the case I think it means she's cracking. She's losing her rational defenses for her husband. The squad may be closer than they look. Tell Munch and Fin to play up the oldest daughter. I suspect mom already knows she's gay. Don't let them out her, but hint at it-- get the mom to admit what she knows and use it to crack her on the stepdad. It'll take a little finessing, but they should be able to get her cooperation."

_Olivia_

I nod, glad that you're back at work, even if you're not back to work. You smile, the last traces of your anger falling away as you pull me into a warm embrace. I forget for a minute that we're in the gray room, that anyone who wants to can flip a switch and watch us here, hear our conversation. It's the first minute I've had to actually soak in your presence.

"Welcome home baby."

You lean back from me, pulling your head from my shoulder to look me in the eye.

"Hi."

"Hi. How was the drive?"

"Don't ask. Shouldn't you get back to work now that we have this all sorted out?"

"In a minute."

I push against you, walking you back until your back is up against the door, then tilt my head up and close the distance between us, claiming your mouth roughly, searching your lips and teeth and tongue with mine, basking in the warmth of your nearness. Our kiss is short, but satisfying and I'm overwhelmed with the gratitude of having you back where you belong.

We leave the interrogation room together, and you kiss me chastely on the cheek before turning to head back home as I settle contentedly at my desk… suddenly not really minding that I have a few days in the squad room free of the busy streets and grisly crime scenes. It means not having to come in early, and getting out on time. It means my first few days with you back will be free of some of the harsher aspects of my job, leaving me calmer, gentler, at ease and able to just enjoy having you back.

_Alex_

I spend the rest of the day unpacking the boxes I've brought up from the car, and resisting the temptation to check on my office. You've left me a note, probably hoping to avoid me at the station, but in it you've forbidden me to open the door, saying you want to be there when I see it for the first time. I leave some work related boxes outside the closed door, and move into the bedroom, unpacking clothes and shoes… pulling out the few things I've brought with me in the car before I call up the moving company to find out when the van with the rest of my things will arrive. I need the armoire and small desk for the bedroom, and I'm already wishing I'd packed my computer in the car instead of letting it go in the van with the rest of my furniture. I take a break to finish my book, and then move into the kitchen, setting to the task of reorganizing your dishware to make room for mine. You may be the chef, but I know how to stock a kitchen for eating. Our styles mesh well, if tinted with a bit of an eclectic flair, and I'm reaching to readjust the top shelf when I feel your fingers on the back of my knee. I didn't hear you come home, and I nearly lose my balance at your touch, feeling a fire build without my consciousness as you reach up the other hand to steady me, slipping it under the hem of the knee-length flowing skirt I put on after my shower.

I lean my head against the cabinet in front of me as your fingers trace their way back down my thigh, resting once again behind my knee, tickling my skin with their warmth. A flush spreads through my body and I turn carefully on the small stepladder, looking down at your smiling face, desire flashing gold inside your eyes. I lean to rest my hands on your shoulders as you gently pull me from the step and into your arms, your mouth finding mine quickly, with more elegance than we had time for in the squad room.

Your arms are strong around me, firm. I hold your face gently in my hands, guiding our kisses deeper, our noses brushing together as we play our silly tongue games, licking and nipping and suckling at each others lips and cheeks and chins and necks. I throw back my head as you lick an exquisite line down my neck and into the hollow of my collarbone,

"God I missed you."

You mumble in agreement, your lips buzzing against my skin sending shivers down my spine. I pull you back to my lips, wanting to taste you again, wanting to let the feeling of your incredible lips against mine wash over me even as I feel myself growing wet at your kiss.

You push back against me, until my hands rest against the counter behind me, until the tile-topped surface pushes against my back as you unbutton my sweater, kissing down again, making a curving path down my neck and shoulders as you reach behind me to unhook my lace-trimmed bra. I reach around behind you, pulling your head to my body as you tease the straps partway down my arms, then I let you go and cross my arms in front of me, grasping the straps and slowly pulling them the rest of the way, exposing myself to you, watching the hunger grow in your eyes. I drop my bra on the floor, then hop onto the counter and spread my legs so you can lean against me, still standing in front of me as you gently take one breast in the palm of you hand.

Your thumb floats tenderly over my nipple, and I feel my body come to life at your touch, feel myself hardening and flowing at the sight of your brown skin next to my cream. You look up at me through your lashes as your mouth finds my breast, your tongue licking and suckling at my attentive nipple, as your other hand attends to my other breast, and I feel dizzy with this moment, full of the touch of you. Your hand moves down, finding the zipper of my skirt and drawing it slowly downward. I use my hands to lift off the counter ever so slightly and you turn your attention lower, using both hands to pull off the flimsy fabric, letting it fall to the floor as your eyes take in my naked skin, stepping back as an appreciative flush creeps over your cheeks when you see I've not bothered with any underwear. I quickly forget my chill as you place your hands at my legs, pressed together again after losing my skirt. You gently pull my legs apart, insinuating yourself between my thighs, between my knees as my calves dangle over the edge of the counter. I pull at your shirt, dragging it up and over your head, and you tip your head to meet my lips as your hands fumble with your belt, and as you step free of your jeans you leave my mouth and kiss another exquisite line, moving swiftly down my body.

_Olivia_

The sight of you perched naked on the counter before me is delicious, a better meal than any I could prepare, and I waste little time placing myself between your legs, kissing my way down your skin until my eyes are level with your soft blond peachfuzz. I gently play a hand through your hair, letting my fingers come close to your swollen lips, letting it brush dangerously close to your aching clit, your heat tangible, rising from your body to greet my nose and mouth even before I touch you. I breathe in the heady scent of your sex, feeling a similar warmth blossoming below me at the nearness to core. I place gentle kisses in your downy hair, and take my hands from where they've rested on your thigh, using two fingers to part your skin, to pull you open as my mouth moves closer, as my tongue takes its first taste of you, of the scent and flavor of my favorite delicacy.

Your hand nestles in my hair, pulling me closer… pulling me further inside you as my tongue soaks in the familiarity, laps hungrily at the wetness that flows from you. Above me, I hear you moan, and below I feel my own wetness spreading, kicked into gear by the sounds of your pleasure as I suckle you, wanting to take all of you in my mouth, to taste you everywhere in me. I play circles around your clit, my tongue moving steadily in you, licking a path to the edge of your control, your moans an indication of your satisfaction. My other hand follows my tongue, entering you slowly as I shift my mouth to begin teasing at the swollen button of flesh above your opening.

I'm lost in the scent of you, in the taste of your skin and your arousal on my tongue and I barely hear you screaming my name above me as your body convulses around my fingers, new wetness finding its way outside as I flick one last time at your clit with my tongue, before moving back to gather this new liquid, not wanting to waste a drop, to miss one delicate swallow of you.

You slide off the counter, your body nearly limp… your walls still clutching at the finger I'm moving ever so gently inside of you, keeping you at the height of your arousal. You lean into my body, resting your head on my shoulder. Your breath is ragged but your sighs are satisfied, and I feel you shudder again as my finger finds that fleshy secret place inside you, and we collapse together on the soft rug from our old apartment. I shift my arm, pulling my hand away from you only to feel you take my wrist and guide me back even as your own hand makes its way between us to test my own wetness.

"This time… I want you to come **with** me."

You kiss me deeply, devouring my tongue still wet with the taste of you and it doesn't take long for your fingers to find their way inside me, and with your free hand you hold my face gently but firmly, forcing me to look in your eyes as your fingers take an impossible tempo below us. My own attention wavers, but you don't seem to mind when my hand comes up to reach around your body, pulling you closer. Instead you take it as a sign, moving your hand more forcefully, your thumb attacking my clit until I feel as though I'll die without proper release, and I nearly do as you pull away from my mouth and move slowly down my body until your lips kiss forcefully at the v of my legs, and as I feel your tongue parting me I break, speechless but moaning as my orgasm leaves me bucking beneath you, your tongue and fingers relentless inside me, around me. You moan into me as I explode and the sensation pushes me further until I'm lost in the feeling of you between my legs, in the feeling of you inside me… finally home for good.


	30. Bliss

**Chapter Thirty: Bliss**

_Alex_

My first day back on the job I'm in the courtroom taking care of your harassment charge. I can't say I'm surprised to see Trevor at the other table, smiling smugly at me across the room, but his amusement is short-lived as it's dismissed with a reprimand for wasting the court's time. I gather my papers, tucking the two large file folders of testimony defending you back into my briefcase. You lean over the railing and whisper a thank you, reminding me that I need to pick up dinner, as the stove is still non-functional. I nod and squeeze your hand with my fingers. I watch you walk out of the courtroom, tilting my head at the rhythm of your footsteps. I can't help the smile that plays over my lips.

I hear a familiar voice behind me and I try not to groan.

"Alex-- Congratulations."

I turn slowly to meet the eyes of a man I despise. "What do you want Trevor?"

"I just thought I should remind you that the restraining order against your detective still stands, even though you've managed to weasel out of the harassment suit."

"Interesting choice of words counselor, considering the only weasel I can see around here is wearing a cheap suit and carrying his father's briefcase."

"Fiesty, feisty Alexandra; first day back and already swinging for the fences. But then again you always were the spirited one in your family."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Not a thing. I just thought I'd ask how your mother likes her new legal counsel?"

My surprise must have registered on my face as Trevor smirks.

"Hadn't you heard? Your girlfriend convinced her to fire me, and by extension, my father's entire firm. She's hired some high finance lawyer with government connections. It seems she decided to come clean, as it were."

I look around at the now empty courtroom as I feel my gaze harden, my jaw tightening. "I thought you said she wasn't involved in anything illegal Trevor."

"Actually, I believe my exact words were that anything untoward that's mixed up in your mother's business is just that-- your mother's business. Especially now that she's chosen new counsel."

"You don't know what you're talking about Trevor, and I'd advise you to keep your mouth shut." I spin on my heel, snatching my briefcase from the table and heading quickly towards the door of the courtroom. Trevor's voice calls to me as I begin to push into the corridor,

"You should talk to your mother Alex, make sure she's not making a mistake. She's welcome to resolicit the firm, but the offer won't last forever. Things could get ugly, and that fancy financial lawyer may not be able to protect her the way we have."

I whip around to face him as he sidles up beside me. "Stay the hell away from my mother Trevor. I believe we've been down this road before."

His hand is on my wrist, pulling me close to whisper in my ear, "Yes, but if you recall, the last time you threatened me you actually had something to report. Remember those two little words, Alex? I have three of my own for you. Statute of Limitations."

I wrench my wrist from his grasp and shoot him a murderous look, "Stay the fuck away from me Trevor, I mean it." I storm out of the room, hoping Trevor reads my stride for anger, and not the fear I'm actually harboring.

_Olivia_

I hear you tapping at the door with your foot and I jump from my spot behind the pulled out stove to open the door for you, your arms full and your face set in a hard line. I grab the bags from your hands and talk as I move into the kitchen.

"What happened? You look angry."

"I'm not angry, Olivia. Everything is fine."

Liar, you really think I can't read you better than that? Aside from being a detective I'm your partner, and I know when something's wrong. My first guess is that is has to do with that sleaze Trevor Langan.

"What did he say to you?"

You drop the last two bags on the counter and pitch your briefcase by the door to the office. You move to take plates off a shelf and place them noisily on the counter. I stop unpacking the grocery bags and turn to look at you.

"Alex, what did he say?"

"Did you convince my mother to fire Trevor's firm?"

Shit. I meant to talk to you about all of this earlier but we've been so busy sorting out our new co-habitation that it slipped my mind. "Get some food and sit down Alex, we need to talk."

You move to the table without taking a plate, and I fall behind, sorting out your favorites from the Cho's boxes on the counter. I carry two plates to the table, setting one in front of you next to the mug of coffee I had waiting when you came home, and setting the other at my place with a bottle of water. Your chopsticks stay still on the table, and I poke at my own food, feeling your eyes watching me.

"What's going on Olivia? What haven't you told me about mom's business? It's clearly something big enough that Trevor's willing to threaten me with it. What are you keeping from me?"

I sigh and shove my plate away, so much for dinner. "Evidently your father got some bad advice from Joshua Langan. Between the two of them they got involved in some rather questionable investments. By the time your mother got hold of the companies they were over the borderlines of legality. When your father died, his investments were temporarily in the care of Trevor's father and his firm.

"About three months after your father died, your mother decided she was ready to take over the holdings, and she asked Joshua to teach her all the workings of the companies, and he told her everything she needed to know about every company, every board, every trust except for one. I still don't understand all of the information I have about it, and the truth is I don't want to know. And neither do you. Alex, I don't want you mixed up in this."

"She's my mother Liv, I deserve to know what's going on."

"When I got back from Oregon and went to dinner with her I took all the information I had and used it to convince her to leave you alone. Even though I didn't really understand it all I figured it was bad enough to keep her away, and I was right. Elliot gave me the number of an old college friend who works in the department of finance, who also happens to be a lawyer.

"After Christmas she spent a good deal of my visit telling me about the mess she was in. She wants to let go of the company involved but selling it would raise too many questions. I gave her the name of Elliot's lawyer friend, and encouraged her to give him a call. Last week she called and said he'd agreed to take on her case. They had their first meeting last week and he thinks he can clean it up without her having any real legal issues. She may have to stand in court and defend some of her choices, but the lawyer thinks he can fight any charges that may end up being filed."

"Charges? They're going to file charges against my mother?" Panic flashes across your face and I move from my place at the table to sit by your side.

"Alex, it's going to be fine. I promise."

"Why didn't you tell me Olivia? I had to hear it from Trevor Langan of all people. You should have heard the things he said to me today."

Damn that idiot. "Alex, there's nothing you can do. Let this lawyer do his job. Your mom trusts him, so should you."

"Yes but clearly my mother's judgment about these things isn't the best. Look at the Langans. She's trusted them since before daddy died and look at the trouble they've gotten her into. No, I want to meet this guy. And I want to know exactly what's going on."

"Alex." My tone is warning but I know you won't listen.

"No. Don't talk me out of this Olivia. Call this lawyer, I want some answers."

"If I set up a meeting do you promise to listen to what he has to say and then follow whatever advice he has to give?"

You nod, and I see that glint in your eyes.

"Alex-- I want you to promise to follow it even if you don't agree with him."

You narrow your eyes at me, not liking the conditions of this contract. You can see it's the only choice you have though, so you agree reluctantly. I pick up the phone and call Henry, making an appointment to see him on Friday afternoon after work. When I hang up the phone I turn back to see you watching me, and I notice that once again you look afraid. For all of your posturing and demands, you're worried about what this could mean for your family. After all we've only just gotten back in your mother's good graces, and I can understand how frightened you are of losing it all because of something I know you'll think should have been preventable.

I move back to the table, standing behind you chair as I place my hands on your shoulders, moving slowly to work away the tension there. You raise a hand to place it over mine and tilt your head back to look at me above you,

"It's going to be ok, right? You promise?"

"I swear. Everything is going to be fine, you'll see."

You nod, and pull my hand to your lips. I can see you battling to believe me, scared but wanting to believe me, to believe that everything is going to be all right. I hope I haven't lied to you, and that Henry Wellton is as good as Elliot says.

_Alex_

In your arms at night I try to sleep. For the second night in a row I fail. I gently shift your body next to me, lifting myself out of your embrace and padding softly into the living room. I've tried not to think about my mother's troubles, tried to convince myself that you're right, that everything is going to be fine. But inside me ticks a lawyer's brain, and all I can see are problems without solutions. I've managed to avoid further run-ins with Trevor, but just barely. On Monday trial starts on the Belmet case, and thanks to some finessing by Munch and Fin, both of the remaining two daughters have agreed to testify against their stepfather, and the mother has giving up trying to defend him. She called my office today to set up a meeting, which went well. She'll be valuable witness, especially since Trevor was unable to toss her testimony from trial. In Petrovsky's office he shot me scathing looks, and I ignored him, choosing instead to focus on bringing Petrovsky around. He was too busy trying to best me to care that much about his case, and I got permission to allow Lane's testimony against her husband, a tricky issue.

Tomorrow we meet with this Henry Wellton, and I'm nervous about what he has to tell us. Mother's given him permission to share the details, although she wasn't happy about it-- her instinct the same as yours-- to keep me out of it. Both of you know me too well to try and convince me otherwise though, and so tomorrow I'll finally know exactly what trouble Langan and his father have gotten us into.

I perch on the couch, mimicking your favorite pose with my too-long legs tucked up awkwardly beneath my body, comfortable for a little while as I stare out the large window at the city that's never quiet, never dark. It's almost funny, this transformation in my little family. A year ago I would have sworn I'd never be speaking to my mother again, much less worrying about her legal situation. You told me when I was getting ready to move that it was the photograph that did it, that seeing me so happy broke the ice, melted that hard spot inside her and showed her all the wonder you've brought into my life. I believe it, but I can't help but wondering if maybe the timing was just right. She would never ask my help with this, didn't even tell me she was in trouble, but maybe the threat of this mess made her realize that I'm really the only family left now. Her own sister and brothers are dead, and dad's brother Bill is hardly the one to call in times like this. He'd be far more inclined to turn the whole mess over to the stiffs at the finance department regardless of the consequences for mother personally.

I shift in the soft sofa, drawing my knees up to my chest and hugging my legs with my arms, resting my chin on my knees. You've told me not to worry, and I'm trying… but I feel out of my league, unprepared. After I was shot I finally realized the real perils of my job, realized that I wasn't immune to the dirt of my job, to the hazards. I've accepted that you and I lead potentially dangerous lives, you especially. I don't like it, but I've accepted the fact that there are certain risks inherent in your job. But my mother… my mother should be above such worries. I've never worried about her the way I worry about you. And even now it's a different kind of worry. I don't fret that someone will gun her down in the street, I'm not worried about her getting worked over by some overenthusiastic perp. But to my mother, financial ruin would be akin to a shot in the gut. It might not kill her, but the recovery would be devastating.

My vision grows bleary with sleep and anxiety and I start as I feel a blanket draping my shoulders. I should have known I couldn't escape your attention for long. You sleep about as well without me as I do without you.

_Olivia_

I wake to an empty space where your body should be, my arm at an awkward angle across your pillow. I move out of the bedroom, grabbing the blanket I know you'll need and cross through the small hallway to the living room, not surprised to see you nodding off with your head on your knees on the sofa, facing our plate-glass view of the city. I drape the blanket over your shoulders and see you jump.

"You should come back to bed. Worrying isn't going to solve anything, and by the time today is done you'll have more information than you could possibly want."

You nod, and reach out an arm to pull me into the sofa next to you. I sit and gather you into my arms, pulling your body into my lap, your head on my shoulder still looking out at the city. I stroke idly at your hair, wishing I could wave a magic wand and make it all just go away. I can't help feeling like our bad luck comes in turns, and I wish we could put more distance between your problems and mine. No sooner is my harassment issue put to rest than Trevor hauls you into something you shouldn't even know about.

You sigh in my arms, and I look down to see you watching me. My lips meet gently at your forehead as my hand sweeps the hair from your face.

"Come back to bed Alex. You need to sleep, and there's plenty of time to worry tomorrow."

You shake your head, and I sigh in exasperation. "You can't do any more about it tonight than you could last night. Come to bed."

"I can't. Just… stay with me?"

"I'm not going anywhere Alex."

"Promise?"

"I swear."

We fall silent, our faces turned again to the city. You whisper something I don't quite catch, and when I ask you to repeat it you turn back to me and I see tears building in your eyes.

"Don't ever leave me, ok?"

"What's going on in that head of yours Lexi?"

"Just promise me Olivia. Promise me you'll never leave me."

As if I ever could. "I promise I will never leave you."

"What if they charge her?"

"Then we'll fight it."

"What if we lose?"

I don't know how to answer you, don't know how to reassure you.

"I just got her back Olivia. I just got my mother back after almost ten years of pain and blame and wasted time. I'm not ready to lose her again."

"You won't."

"What if I do?"

"Alex, you can't live your life in what-if's. You told me that once remember?" You said it as you were leaving me once, in anger, in frustration. But the words are still true even with a different tone, truer probably.

"Tomorrow we'll know better what we're dealing with. Tonight you need to sleep."

"I can't."

I stop to think, trying to find a way to soothe you back to the rest you need. Seeing your briefcase outside the door to the office I have an idea. I wanted to show it to you when you first got back but we were…. busy. It's sure to cheer you up at least a little, and now's as good a time as any. I shift in the sofa, pulling myself upright, and pulling you up with me as I stand.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you a present."

I walk you over to the door of the office, and place a hand over your eyes as I turn the handle. I walk you inside and close the door behind us. Flipping on the switch I take away my hand and tell you to open your eyes.

_Alex_

I'm not really in the mood for surprises, but I play along, knowing you need to feel like you're helping. I let you cover my eyes and lead me across the room. I close my eyes beneath your hand and hear a door open, feel you shuffle me inside a room, and hear the door closing behind us. Behind my closed lids I sense a change in the lighting, then feel your hand leave my face. I open my eyes and find myself standing in my new office. It takes me a minute to recognize the scene before me, and when I do it takes my breath away.

"Liv… it's… I mean… wow." I turn in a circle, following a hand painted coastline to where it meets a lush green forest. I move to the door behind us, it too is part of this incredible mural of a place I've left behind. It must have cost you a fortune to have this painted.

"Who did this? They deserve an award of some kind."

You blush, and I realize it's your handiwork.

"Olivia, you painted this? How did you do this? How did I not know you could paint like this?"

Your blush deepens, embarrassed at my praise. I move slowly around the room, taking in the incredible detail, feeling almost as though I was back on the coast, back in the woods, back in a place I did grow to love, in a place I do miss every now and then.

"Where did you learn to paint like this? It's unbelievable."

You shrug, "I took a class when I was in college. It's not a big deal. You should have seen the ones I painted over before I got done."

I'm shocked, awed by this new talent I've never even suspected. I trace a finger over the shoreline on the window wall, convinced I can hear the surf, even against the backdrop of the New York night out the window. There's an amazing blonde wood desk perpendicular to the side wall, waiting for my computer setup. It's positioned to face the window, and every aspect of the room is designed to make working simple and effortless. Matching cabinetry is mounted against the wall behind the desk, and the mural encompasses the drawers and doors, the light wood almost a perfect match to the color of sandy paint. I look down to see that the wood floors have been sanded to a pale wood and left unstained. Even here the detail is amazing, as you painted shading around the baseboards, carrying over the intricate sandy detail even onto the edges of the wooden floor.

I move from my study to face you. You haven't moved from the center of the room, and there's still a flush of humility on your cheeks as I lean into your arms.

"Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding? Olivia it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I still can't believe you did all of this. This is more than a college class. This is the work of someone who's spent their life painting. Where did you learn to do this? And why didn't I know that you could?"

_Olivia_

I knew you'd be surprised, but I didn't expect you to ask twenty questions. I'm embarrassed by this attention, shy about this 'gift.' You lean into my arms, your back against me as we both look at the room I've made for you to work in.

"The truth is painting classes were mom's response to my wall-art. Which is sort of funny given this room. When I was about four I started coloring all the time. If you put down a piece of paper, I'd draw on it, pull out my crayons. It didn't matter if it was construction paper or the phone bill-- if you left it unattended I attacked.

"After awhile I got tired of the small stuff and I realized that my whole house was just one big blank piece of paper. Mom came home one night and found me drawing on the walls in her bedroom. I'd already filled up as far as I could reach through the rest of the house. She was livid. But once she sobered up she hired painters and enrolled me in a kiddie art class at the civic center near our place.

"When I got too old for that class she found another one. It's one of the few things she did right in between drinks. I took art classes all through high school, I even thought about majoring in it in college, but by then the academy had caught my eye and I decided to shoot for being a cop instead."

"So you just stopped painting?"

"I didn't really have time for it. I did some after you left though. I needed something to keep me from climbing the walls without you. That painting over the desk in the bedroom? I did that one, and there's one in the guest room too. When I saw this place I thought this room would be perfect for a mural. I wanted you to have a piece of Oregon here. I know your home is here, but any idiot can see that you loved it there too. I wanted you to have a place where you could feel like you were still there."

"It must have taken forever." You turn in my arms, facing me with a smile. I'm glad to see you've lost some of the tension from you face and some of the anxiety is gone from your eyes. I feel oddly satisfied that such a small gesture can ease the worry that had so gripped you only minutes ago.

"So you like it?"

You nod, kissing me gently. "I love it. And I love you. How did you do that? I was so stressed out, and so worried and all of a sudden I feel like maybe things will be ok." You lean against me, your lips a breath from my ear, "Are you sure you're not magic?"

I feel a comfortable warmth filling me, that sense of your nearness making me whole. The truth be told, you're the one with all the magic. I finally pull you back to bed and you settle contentedly into my body's curve. I wait until I see your eyes droop heavily with sleep, wanting to be sure you rest despite your lingering worries. When I feel your body grow heavy next to me, your breathing deep and regular I allow my own exhaustion to wash over me. I close my eyes and whisper, "I love you," before my world turns black and I'm overcome by the delicious sleep that only comes of being close to you.

_Alex_

I've spent the day in court, fighting motions from various defense attorneys, and I can tell Petrovsky is getting tired of seeing me. Two discussions in chambers for separate cases, and three actual appearances in court before her have her eyes crossing at the sight of me in the hallway. They've all been blissfully short, but I'm as tired of her as she is of me, and I'm incredibly grateful to see the clock hit five. I gather my briefcase and some papers to work through at home and look up to see you standing in my doorway.

"Ready to go?"

"Yup." I move to lock my office behind me and you wrap your arms around my waist, a bold display of affection from you in such a public place and I know you're trying to reassure me before we go to see mother's lawyer. I turn to accept a kiss and you walk closely by my side, our hands brushing together as we head to my car in the garage. You take the keys I offer and as the doors close behind us you start the engine, then reach for my hand. We ride in silence, leaving the garage and squinting against the fading light as we head towards Wellton's office. You extract your hand from my grasp to flip on your turn signal, then let it rest on my knee and I try to let the weight of it settle my nerves.

"How was your day?" Your voice is loud in the stillness of our previous silence and I don't answer right away.

"Long. Busy. Ended up in front of Petrovsky about five times."

"How did that happen?"

"Some scheduling glitch in her docket. She saw me in the hallway at the end of the day and practically ran in the opposite direction, robes flying."

You chuckle at the image, and turn into the parking structure at the overlarge gray financial building. When we've parked you stretch out of the car and stick the keys in your pocket. I undo my belt but stay stuck in my seat, suddenly unsure if I really **do** want to know what's going on. The door swings open and your hand appears inside the car, open and waiting. I take a deep breath, then grab your outstretched hand in mine and let you pull me from the car and into your arms.

"It's going to be fine Alex."

You sound so sure. How do you sound so sure? I search your eyes for traces of doubt, looking for the slightest hint of anxiety but there's nothing to see but your warm chocolate circles looking at me that way you do when I'm worried for no reason. I pull my strength from you and let you lead me into the building. Another deep breath outside the office door and I'm ready… mostly. You squeeze my hand and step inside with me, informing Wellton's secretary of our appointment.

_Olivia_

An hour after we enter Henry's office we're headed back to the car, and your face is filled with pure relief. Even I was impressed with Henry's competence and forthright manner. He had good news to give us, and while in the office he called your mother on speaker so we could all hear it at the same time. The look on your face at the news means Trevor's in for some serious personal payback, but I'm pretty sure it means I might get lucky tonight. I banish the thought from my mind and turn my thoughts back to the well-resolved conflict. The government made your mother a fabulous deal. She turns the company over for a complete audit by the IRS and other involved enforcement agencies and in return she is immune from all potential prosecution thereafter. She may have to testify against Trevor Langan's father, but I don't think that will be a big problem for her. Especially not after discovering just how involved Joshua was in turning the company dirty in the first place.

The worst-case scenario is that Joshua and Trevor and their firm get off scott free but your mother remains out of the line of fire. Henry's convinced that at the very least Joshua is going to have quite a lot to answer for to the IRS and a few other interested agencies, and although Trevor will probably escape relatively unscathed, the Langan and Langan firm is most likely going to suffer a rather severe hit to their credibility. The thought of clients fleeing Trevor's particularly sleazy brand of lawyering makes you almost giddy, and even I can't help but smile at the thought of Trevor out on his ass. I'd kill to be there when the IRS shows up at his office. Because of the firm's previous involvement in the company in question, the Revenue Service has decided to audit the entire office, just to be safe.

We drive out to Long Island to Cabot Castle to celebrate. It'll be the first dinner we have as a family unit of sorts, and as excited as I am I can't help but be a little nervous. It must show because you look at me as I change lanes, and reach to place your hand on my knee in a mirror of my earlier quiet comfort to you.

"Everything is different now Livvy. You said so yourself. From here on out all we have to worry about is where to have the wedding."

I reach to pat your hand, feeling the cool metal of your engagement ring against my skin. A smile creeps past my waning anxiety and I feel myself catching your excitement. It's the first time we'll actually be able to sit down and talk about real plans for our wedding, not just together but with your mother and I know you're beyond happy that she's going to be a part of this.

Years ago, you told me that there was magic in the world, that it was possible to find a happiness so divine it could only be called bliss. I was cynical and jaded and I didn't believe you then. Since those days though, you've died and resurrected, you've left and returned, you've lost and found your family, and now we're here, together where we belong.

Who knows? Maybe you're right. Maybe there is magic in the world. Maybe it **is** possible to find Bliss. After all-- I have.


End file.
